etc and the importance of maintaining good relations with your fruit man

All CIDA and DFAIT interns were invited to lunch at the ambassador's house. We had steamed broccoli and beef and talked about the CBC. He's a cool dude who regailed us with tales of his days in Iran, negotiating through the Kazemi tensions to bring her body back to Canada. Walking back onto the main street was a bit of a shock after the quiet Canadian afternoon.
The Millenium Development Goal campaign sailed through Cairo this weekend on eight felucas, each representing a different goal, or so I was told. I expected to see sails sporting images of workers or starving children, even UN logos, but saw only Vodafone adds. It was a pamphlet give away day with lots of Egyptian civil society gathered in a garden on the Nile. The Sudanese refugees busted a move and were the highlight of the day.
The other event of the week was the World Bank launch of their annual World Development Report. This year is: Development and the Next Generation. I attended with some members of the youth group involved with the National Action Plan. The report puts forward some broad policy options to improve the situation of youth in global development. It speaks specifically to employment and Egypt and the Middle East are highlighted, as well as some interesting and surprising information on the links between different policies outcomes (ie. who knew that implementing school uniforms in Kenya would coincide with such high drop-out rates and bring down teenage pregnancy?). www.worldbank.org/wdr2007.
After the launch, I went to the zoo. There are many reasons to visit the Cairo Zoo. Want to see white flamingos and pink storks? If urban spider monkeys are your thing, this is the place. The Zoo is right in the middle of town and is only a short walk from Cairo University. This makes it a favourite for young couples to come and pay their twenty-five piasters for semi-privacy to hold hands. I had been warned about the depressed looking lions and the beaten hippopatimi, but have to admit that I was actually charmed by the place. The treatment of the animals is inconsistent. Some look as though they're living large (happy zebras and a particularly cheerful, swinging monkey), while the elephant's misery showed in his droopy trunk (more droopy than they usually are, and his sad eyes!). I fed a toothless camel (that looked more like a llama) some sweet potato, some rather loon looking creatures some lettuce, and disturbed many a romantic couple in the mountain goat paths (who knew?).
Fruit here is dreamy. I eat persimmons that are so ripe they're pudding, and the subtle sweetness of the custard apple is now a fave. The Arabic word for custard apple is 'ishta,' which means cream. It's also the slang equivalent to cool. I used to visit a fruit man on the man street, but we had a falling out because he didn't like me bagging my own fruit, so I went elsewhere. I have now developed a close relationship with my new fruit man and always walk away with extra bananas or berries stuffed in my bag. The other day I stopped by with H and G to meet the fruit man. He suggested that H convert G and I to Islam. When she expressed her (shall we say negative) feelings to his comment, he sent us away with more bananas to maintain our friendship. My love is that cheap.
These days I'm an Arabic speaking machine and am flexing my new skills in the exercise of argument. My coworkers are learning new things about me.