Dance Dance Revolution and the Little Elevator that Couldn't

In Egypt, there is dancing. On the streets, I see school children break it down while waiting for their bus. I have seen veiled women define the shake at weddings.
We decided to host a shake at our apartment. There was food, music and girls. Lots of each. Our baked moussa'a was a hit, and seemd to have somehow energized the shimmying. It was also a good chance for some of our friends to meet, and nothing seems to bring people together like the humbling experience of gyrating in a living room. We were an encouraging, clapping crowd.
This week we also hosted many strangers on our door step, who found themselves stuck in our elevator. Apparently the seventh floor is where the elevator likes to lodge itself. We have come across different personalities banging on the elevator door and begging for assistance. We encountered neighbours we never spoke to, delivery men and pharmacists in the building to give injections. Sometimes the victims are congenial, other times they are disgruntled and don't want to stick around to chat. We have finally figured out the metal bolt to hold down to free people from their captivity, which makes me feel useful.
Hands together for the man who fixed our fridge yesterday at 2am. Maybe now, (this seems too good to be true) I will no longer be electrocuted when I reach for some food.
The nadi life is a sweet life. I'm practicing my backhand, frequenting the cafes and am due to hit the squash court by storm soon. We have already met a few people who recognize us now, and were offered tennis lessons by a man who may have been blind. It's a great place for people watching. Many an Egyptian relationship blooms in the cafes of nadis, and Hadeel and I are there to watch (and comment, of course). There are just as many giddy parents as youth.
The Youth Employment Network is here on mission this week, combined with the stage of the National Action Plan, interesting progress will be made in the next two weeks.