Gail Carriger’s Soulless

I am a self-professed book snob. I am drawn to the most literary of titles. I shy away from the thrift paperback editions in favor of critical editions. I research which translation is considered to be the best before I purchase a book. And, admittedly, I had never bought a book from the Science Fiction and Fantasy section of a bookstore until now. Why the change of heart? A little YouTube video that shows a six-hour-long book design process condensed into two minutes. It is incredible! And you can see it for yourself here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoDCiTsS7dU.

Having had to use the InDesign program before, I was floored by the masterful way this design was created. Though the design program in the YouTube video is not InDesign, I imagine the same principles apply, and it would have taken me six hours to do the text boxes alone. The video shows the cover of Blameless, and having been so entranced by the cover, I set out to purchase and read the book. Before long I discovered that Blameless is the third book in Ms. Carriger’s Parasol Protectorate series and its release date appears to be September 2010. This meant I had time to acquire and read the first two books in the series. Though Changeless was in stock everywhere, Soulless was not. The stubborn in-person book buyer in me refused to give up and order it online, and after scouring Phoenix bookstores I triumphed.

Perhaps it is my delight with etiquette, my love of Victorian literature, the allure of anything British, or just the sheer originality of a spinster supernatural dealing with vampires and werewolves while exhibiting the best of manners, but I truly enjoyed this book. The cleverness far outweighed the tongue-in-cheek cheesiness, and I am quite excited to read Changeless in the coming weeks.

You can find out more about Ms. Carriger, her series, and all her proper ways by following her on Twitter at @gailcarriger or by perusing her website at www.gailcarriger.com.

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Carriger, Gail. Soulless. New York: Orbit, 2009.

Honk If You're Egyptian

Amid all the history, culture, and wonder of Egypt, there is one constant. One persistent feature impossible to ignore. Mummies? No. The image of King Tutankhamun? No again. The pyramids? Egyptians could care less. The unifying factor of all the places we explored in Egypt? The incessant, call-to-prayer-interrupting, often maddening, sound of horns honking. Egyptian's vehicular aural communication is as difficult to decode as the intricate dance of the honeybee. Short honk followed by long. Three short honks. Two long honks. What did it all mean? Each pattern seemed to have some hidden meaning, a Morse code of sorts that only the other erratic Egyptian drivers understand. (Employing a driving style to rival the insanity of the Italians, Egyptians ensure each crossing of the street is a test of speed and agility that not even Frogger would dare to attempt.) As we made our way through each city, each midan, and each street, one honk became abundantly clear: a long, loud, resounding horn meant, simply, get out of the way, and do it fast.

After walking across the border from Israel to Egypt, we were immediately greeted with the most classic of Egyptian customs: being offered "a special deal" that roughly equates to someone thinking you are a sucker who will overpay by about 300%. After politely declining, we had a 2.5 hour drive on a microbus (the same as a sherut in Israel) through Sinai and along the coast of the Red Sea, to a small diving-centered city called Dahab. We rested for a few hours, and then crawled aboard yet another microbus for a 2 hour drive to St. Catherine's Monastery at the foot of the impressive Mt. Sinai of Moses and Ten Commandments fame. The adventure in store? I hike to the top, beginning at 2 AM, in an effort to reach the summit in time to watch the sunrise. As we trekked up the steep, dark, cold, camel-lined trail I concluded two things: I am still terrified of camels and Moses was a crazy person. I must admit, the feat was worth it, the view impressive, and the experience unforgettable. Six hours later, after the hike down, we were back at monastery, visited the burning bush, and then took the microbus back to Dahab where we had a few hours of rest and koshary (which was insanely delicious and only rivaled by the delectable mango juice that was in season), before our overnight bus ride to Cairo.

Cairo put our haggling skills to the test immediately. As soon as we retrieved our baggage from the bus we were offered yet another "special discount" on a cab ride to our hostel. The offer? Two hundred Egyptian pounds. The offer after converting to USD? Around $36. The hilarity of it? The cab ride should only cost about 30 Egyptian pounds (around $6). Which, after an epic bout of haggling, was what we paid to get to Talaat Harb Square, our neighborhood for the next five days.

Cairo is gigantic. With a population of 25 million people it is sprawling, fast-paced, and has a modern downtown with historic areas scattered throughout. We explored Old Cairo, Coptic (Christian) Cairo, the island in the middle of the Nile, and walked our legs off on daily ventures into different directions into the city, and I think Josh can attest that I sampled the mango juice that each area had to offer. Of course, everywhere we went people wanted to help us out. Not only were we welcomed by dozens of Cairenes everywhere we walked, but they also offered to accompany us to where we were headed so that we wouldn't get lost. This assistance inevitably had one of two results. The first result: we would, just happen, to walk right by a store where our guide would receive a commission if something were purchased (I believe "high-pressured sales" does not quite do this phenomenon justice). The second result: we would, not so nicely, be demanded to proffer up a baksheesh (tip or bribe). This practice borders on the absurd. Imagine someone offering to give you directions, and then upon dispensing the unsolicited information, that person demands that you pay them. Or if you happen to take a picture of, say, the Nile, some random person might insist that pictures are not allowed unless you pay them. Keep in mind that this is a lie, you know it is a lie, and you realize the person has no authority, but you then cave into handing over the 3 Egyptian pounds (60 cents) in the face of an escalating disagreement that potentially, usually, results in someone yelling at you in harsh Arabic, that I suspect involves some cursing.

Alexandria, 2 hours by train northwest of Cairo, offered a beautiful reprieve from such antics. We walked from the central train station along the corniche (the road along the shore) to the Library of Alexandria. On the way, not only did we enjoy the peace of looking at our map and guidebook without offers of help or demands for baksheesh, but we had the most delicious meal of our trip. What could have been more fitting than a grilled fish freshly caught from the Mediterranean accompanied by baba ghanoush, fresh vegetables, sauteed peppers and onions, and the requisite side of french fries? And then to top it off with the Library of Alexandria?! I beelined to the literature section (800) and the presence of the classics on the shelves of this most historic of libraries sent my heart all aflutter. It was amazing, and beautiful, and the best part is that it is a fully functioning, high tech, modern institution. The ample seating was being utilized by university students doing what university students do in libraries: finishing homework, napping on open notebooks, and, of course, Facebooking.

But what would any trip to Egypt be without a visit to the pyramids? We saw them all: Giza, the Sphinx (I know, I know, not a pyramid), the Red, the Bent, and the first-ever attempt at a pyramid: the Step. They were magnificent. And those are only the major ones. We went inside the pyramid of Pepi I, and also hung out in Djoser's funerary complex. The whole experience was nothing short of amazing. To see hieroglyphs in person! To be inside a pyramid and have that eerie feeling that you are in someone's burial chamber! To walk to the crest of a sand dune and see even more, lesser known pyramids fill the skyline! I am so lucky to fulfill what was truly a childhood dream, and it was worth every baksheesh paid along the way.

1 Shekel, 2 Shekalim

After a week spent in Israel, Josh and I only realized en route to Egypt that the plural of shekel (Israel's currency) is not shekels, as we had been so fondly calling them. The proper pluralization, apparently, requires the addition of '-im.' Still, I think the shekel is my all-time favorite name of a currency. I have also taken poetic licenses and more than once told Josh, "A shekel saved is a shekel earned." I'm not sure how Mr. Franklin would feel about my alteration of his well-known adage, but I choose to think he'd take it in moderation.

I'm not sure how to describe the plane flight from New York to Tel Aviv. I suppose turbulent suffices for both the cloud-induced bumps, as well as the behavior of the passengers. I've never thought that flight attendants were so close to using physical force -- those Israelis did not want to stay seated, did not want their seat belts fastened, and did not want their seat backs and trays in the upright position. I cannot count the number of times a flight attendant had to announce, "Get back in your seat! Yes, you, sir. You are the one in the aisle." And when I deplaned I had never seen such disarray! The mess left on that plane is nearly indescribable. There were cups, in-flight magazines, plastic utensils, and airline blankets, and pillows strewn everywhere. It was as if all airline-related paraphernalia had tried to stage a revolt.

As we stepped into the Tel Aviv airport, we readied ourselves for the high level of security scrutiny about which we had been forewarned, but traveling through the airport was a breeze. In fact, that was a repeated pattern: our expectations pleasantly debunked. To be perfectly candid, I haven't written sooner because I haven't wanted to take time to stop exploring Jerusalem and then Tel Aviv. Jerusalem was more than anything I could have expected. Not only was it amazingly traveler-friendly, it was amazingly friendly in general. Without a doubt, our typical Western notions of the city do it a great disservice. There was merely a fraction of the conservative attitude we had been lead to expect, and where the conservative did exist, it seemed the only expectations on visitors were simply to respect it, and not to adhere to it. Except for a rogue tout (who, after we refused his services, in hindsight, deliberately told us the wrong path to take to Mt. Zion) everyone was immensely welcoming and helpful. The residents of Jerusalem seem almost as if they want visitors to love the Holy City the same way they do, and were especially handy to help with directions. We experienced this within 5 minutes of entering the city after our sherut (shared taxi) dropped us off. Because where would it drop us off if not on a random street corner in the middle of a strange, new city? And what could be more comical than Josh being completely convinced the sherut driver had pointed down the street, and me being absolutely sure he had pointed us up the street? In the end, it seem we had been pointed across the street. As we stood with our backpacks looking up at the street signs, down at the map, and up at the street signs again, not one, but two passersby, stopped to offer us help.

After that, navigating was a piece of cake. We walked our feet off in the Old City, where Christianity, Islam, and Judaism coexist in one gigantic walled-in city, filled with souqs, markets, restaurants, churches, and mosques. Over two days we toured the Old City, visited the oh-so-new-and-modern Israel Museum, walked the Via Dolorosa (Way of Sorrows aka the stations of the cross), hiked down from the Mt. of Olives, visited the sight where Jesus was believed to be buried, and I had some mighty delicious bagels and lox, shawarma (scrumptious seasoned meat, usually in a sandwich or pita), and a few other Isreali staple foods. Then, it was off to Tel Aviv, where I put my academic pants on and presented a paper on publishing at Israel's First Academic Writing Conference and later attended some interesting lectures. Then, I had one of the best burgers of my life, topped with grilled eggplant and Bulgarian cheese. Tel Aviv is exciting. Every street has its own personality, and we stayed in the city center, and then by the beach, where I thoroughly enjoyed a dip in the Mediterranean.

So, on Sunday we took a four-hour bus ride from Tel Aviv to the border city of Eilat, took bus 15 to the border crossing in Taba, paid our 98.5 shekel (25.26 USD) exit fee in Israel, and walked over the border to Egypt, where I am writing from now. I can't wait to follow all the advice on my brother Mike's "Egyptian To Do List" which mostly includes the cheapest places to acquire food. We are off to eat dinner at one of his recommendations in Dahab called Koshary House, which features an authentic Egyptian dish consisting of pasta, rice, spicy tomato sauce, lentils, and fried onions. I will let you know how it is!