*** Friday, 16Jun06 ***
What to do on my much-relished day off?

The roof of the cathedral.

I walked over to Maison Thomas in Mohandesen and had a breakfast of eggs, cheese and sausage. For all the all important choice of meat, I pointed out a gray sausage in the case and asked for two links. Was I ever disappointed. For an appearance close to sausage you get all across America, tne taste was not something I cared to repeat. Oh, well. Some you win, . . .

I saw a very modern Christian church building across the street and a block back from Maison Thomas. I walked over to it and went in. It was an Anglican church and services were just over. I took some pictures of the structure. It turned out to be much smaller than it had seemed to be from across the street.

The Ceramic Museum was closed for the day. Bummer. That ruined the second purpose of my trip. Well, it looked like it would be pool-side for the rest of day.

*** Saturday, 17Jun06 ***
Today I decided to go to the Islamic Museum. I figured it was about a 40 minute walk down Mohamed Mahmoud Street and then north for a long block. When the elevator opened there was Marcia. She said, "You look like you're set for an adventure." I replied, "I'm going to walk to the Islamic Museum." "How far away is that?" she asked. When I said it was about a 40 minute walk, she seemed to lose interest.

A bored shop boy.

And so I went. The walk was a delight as I wandered into the alleys I came across and made some sound scenes when things were interesting. Alas, when I got to the Islamic Museum it was under renovation. The building was a lovely one and I regretted not being able to go in.

What to do next? I consulted my map and I was reasonably close to the Khan al-Khalili, the famous medieval market that had transformed itself into the 15th century equivalent of a thousand stop shopping center. Do not take this as a disparagement of the shopping experience to be found there. The only difference between the Khan and a big mall is that the Khan is technically outside (you can see the sky) but the lanes are so narrow that there is shade available almost everywhere. OK, OK, Noon on some East-West streets is a bit warm but you don't have to walk on them since there are endless North-South alleys and wandering paths so narrow that the sun is not an issue.

So I wandered around, collecting sound scenes. Sometimes I was asked, "What is that?" and I truthfully told them it was my Palm Pilot. I didn't mention that my Palm Pilot had a microphone and could record sounds. So I collected sounds whenever it seemed interesting but while the concept was superb my equipment was pathetic.

I took a cab back to the hotel and got in several hour of sun and then responded to email in my room. It seemed a perfectly ordinary day but some time during the late evening my innards got hit by an ill-tempered gastric freight train and I found myself on the john letting go of my insides. Not at all fun. I went back to sleep but kept waking up every fifteen or twenty minutes. At some point in the night I felt my stomach churning and rushed to the toilet where I was talking to God on the porcelain telephone. I hate that feeling but had no recourse. Yuck! The rest of the night was more fitful and unsatisfying napping.

*** Sunday, 19Jun06 ***
First day of the new week but I was not yet recovered from my case of Rameses Revenge. It was as if my insides were completely liquified and a tidal surge was underway; I felt awful.
I got up on time but I felt like I had been hit by a freight train. Several times I stopped getting ready for work and just lay down for a few minutes. I was in bad shape.
I went to work on time but must have looked dreadful. There were several comments on my skin.

I thought about going back to the hotel early but I had some things I had to do. Still it was a day-long struggle and not at all pleasant.

When I got back to my room I stayed up to 9:30, drank only two beers, took a Lorazepam and went to bed. I got get better sleep than the night before but still woke up several times in a mess. Just plain yucky.

During all of this I took Immodium twice a day, just praying for the moment it would congeal my insides into some form of organic concrete. It couldn't happen soon enough for me.

*** Monday, 19Jun06 ***
Better yet, perhaps at 70% of normal. I was clearly recovering. I dared to have French Fries at our local shwarma place but didn't dare the shwarma yet. At night I had a few beers, took a Lorazepam and went to sleep.

*** Tuesday, 20Jun06 ***
More meetings, more walks around the compound and some more French fries at the shwarma shack. They like us there and even did before I started tipping. The prices are so ridiculous that I leave a 25 cent tip and it ends up being 67% of the bill. (Pop Quiz: If this is so, how much was the bill in USD? Email your answers. All winners get a gold star on their foreheads.)

*** Wednesday, 21Jun06 ***
When I am writing a report from scratch, there are moments when I simply run out of ideas and don't know what to write or do next. This used to alarm me: I feared that I might never write anything again. Well, when this low point hits, I have learned to take a short break and walk down stairs and then around the edge of the compound. It only takes about 12 minutes but it seems to clear my head and I can continue writing. A wag might claim that I get my best idea while courting sunstroke.

For weeks now I have had a tune in my head and it won't go away. I first remember this experience when I hitch hiking around Europe in 1971. Then, the tune that wouldn't leave me alone was unknown to me but, later, after I got home, I had the radio on in the background and I suddenly noticed that the mysterious music was playing. I was so interested in finding out what I had been humming for so long that I stood by the radio and did nothing else until it was over and the announcer gave the name of the piece. It was the Piano Concerto by Grieg, an overblown mishmash of trills and arpeggios, tutis and other explosions -- altogether one of my most favorite pieces of pop classical music.

This time there is no mystery about the tune. It is the Return of the Pilgrims march from Tannhausser by Wagner. I love its steady swirling of massed violins with brass accompaniment. I would love to be able to hear a recorded version but all I have is the notes that go round and round in my mind and won't go away.

What is your favorite music?