Third grade encounters with egyptian/arabic women - Part Infinite!

Yes, I ve said it millions of times.

I am a "man s" kind of girl and I usually get along with the masculine side of the world much better than with my own side simply because most women tend to hate me with no apparent reason - with many wonderful exceptions - and men tend to be much more fun, loving and straightforward with me.

So it s surprising when some of the best knowledge bits I ve been gathering here in Egypt come from women, not from men.

At work, my world is MALE. Musicians, assistants, etc, all of them are MEN and this is how I feel comfortable due to their generosity and kindness towards me.

Where do I meet "my women" then???

At the "moroccan bath" (one of those from where you expect to leave with a strange skin disease with no cure) and at the gym (ONLY WOMEN allowed) where I sweat like a pig (thanks Ricky Martin!) and carry a Sylvester Stallone s look while my egyptian fellows carry cute mobiles and outfits combined with their make-up "comme il faut".

Not a drop of sweat. How do they do it???

Yesterday, there was reunion of "training buddies" and I couldn t feel more like the black swan as I did then.

There was I, ready for the boxing challenge and really wet from my SERIOUS training while they were laughing and gossiping on their mobiles and with each other as if the gym was a tea time party where they all discussed everybody s lives.

I moved around the noisy laughing and wondered how do they manage to "train" and still make a party out of it. I am guessing not much "training" will go with it.

One of the girls commented with the others that I am a dancer ("rakasah") so the chaos was doubled and I became the target of the party.

I am used to be stared at. I live in Cairo, for God s sake! Poor me if I minded to be stared at but this one was DIFFERENT.

After the group discovered the exciting news about my profession ( a big deal for common egyptian girls, apparently), they followed me to the "steam" room where I was observed as if I was Madonna shooting her new soft porn video clip.

There I was, sweating like 20 pigs and naked while a group of hysterical girls observed my every movement.

Could I relax?! Well, of course not. But what would be the possible options? Complain about the girls and gain their secret hate? Be mad at this extreme violation of privacy and proof of provincianism?!

By now, I know better than that.

For a moment, I thought: "What a hell...why don t I make them sing Om Kolthoum and dance naked for them in the steam room?"

That would have been THE happening of their lives but I wouldn t go so far.

I just breathed deeply and counted till 20 to calm myself down.

My masters, these women...how sweetly they work my patience and ability to accept the unacceptable...

Beautiful masters.