Even in French, tunafish is tunafish

Back from dinner. I had been past this place called Noir et Blanc at lunchtime and it was packed! So I figured that the food must be ok. I went for dinner and ordered the penne putenesca thinking something safe and easy and pasta would help my belly (you try coughing 800 times a day for a week and see if your belly is happy). I should've been a bit warned when they said it would have to be spaghetti. What arrived was passably good but certainly never was or would become, putenesca. Two olives, some soft queso-type cheese, a tomato puree sauce flavored with the ubiquitous chili sauce harrissa and a can of tunafish. Stir over heat and serve over spaghetti.

Palermo is probably a 3 hour boat ride from here. Almost enough to make me cry...

But my belly is happy to have food in it. I think it is at least. I seem to have lost the 'hunger' response. I eat because I know that I need to have food but my body is not really telling me that it is hungry. I assume that this will return as I get healthy.

Regarding my health, my head is more and more clear all the time. I'm sleeping a ton and drinking water. I think that i'm on the mend finally for real.

This is great news because I kept jotting down notes of things to blog about, observations I've made but I couldn't find the energy or clarity to think or write at all. I will have to go back and catch you up on the final days of Siwa and my thoughts on many things: Gender Roles in an Islamic society, Progressive price structures, Myths and Rumors (probably true) regarding sexuality and the traditional practices among rural Egyptians, Localized manufacturing or Why Chiclets taste different here, Theorum and practicality in terms of blending in, City Mosque-Country Mosque (a study of the role of class in the practice of religion), government corruption as a way of life.

Most of the in-depth stuff here will have to wait as I still feel myself too ignorant, too naieve to do more than record my observations. Analysis must come later.

But for now: bed calls. So just one quick story. Some years back the Egyptian government decided to install some traffic signals in Cairo. I can picture the hubbub of officials as they are turned on at an official ceremony. Afterward they are promptly and routinely ignored by all. So police officers were hired to control traffic at key busy intersections. There they stand underneath the still working traffic signals with a whistle stopping first one direction, then the other. I'm told that if you're in a hurry, you just call the guy over, slip him a five and the 'light' changes immediately.