Al haraka baraka is one of my favorite Arabic sayings. I think I learned it sometime back at Princeton, when Ustaz Hisham would have us recite a dozen proverbs from memory before each class, but it has come in handy countless times since I moved to the Middle East. "Movement is a blessing" goes the literal translation, but its meaning stretches to suit any instance in which I want to fend off taxi drivers, people pressuring me to ride elevators, camel drivers, and donkey owners.
Last week I swore to live up to my credo, pledging myself to a week of exercise classes. It all began with a day at El Fit Fitness Festival, an exercise-a-thon that an Egyptian friend of mine organized at the high-tech industry oasis known as Smart Village. In Smart Village, some distance outside Cairo on the Desert Road, all the buildings are miraculously still white and all the windows are filled with blue reflective glass. There is also, notably, grass. Now, despite the gym ads plastered in various locations (including my neighborhood) featuring WWF-worthy bodybuilders with bulging veins, Cairo is not known for its exercise potential -- perhaps because of the hazards of inhaling air while outdoors, or the risk to joggers of being picked off by a swerving microbus pumping its beats. So El Fit sponsored a competition for the buffest guys and girls in Egypt to come prove their mettle. And then there were the hangers-on, like me and Sarah, who came for the Zumba tent and the free yogurt cart.
On our way to El Fit, we stopped for breakfast at Dandy Mall near Smart Village. As soon as we pulled in, I remembered my first day in Egypt in 2006 and my new host family's tour of this very mall. Mostly, I remember my humiliation when we made a beeline for the paper products section of Carrefour. My quiet host mom pointed proudly to the toilet paper aisle: "We were told in orientation that Americans use lots and lots of toilet paper. Here, you can pick whichever brand you like best!"
There was no toilet paper for us this time. Once at Smart Village, I immediately felt inspired by the clean (?) air, the greenery, and the 80-degree sunshine to get fit. The Zumba tent was going strong by 10am, and after an hour or so switched over to ladies only so that the hijab-wearing among the dancers could let their hair hang out. Still not fit enough, I joined a very aerobic outdoor BodyAttack class and found myself airplaning around in a circle at top speed with a bunch of strangers and a barrel-chested Romanian instructor in short-shorts.
Before leaving, Sarah and I were offered free, one-week trial passes to a bougie gym in Mohandiseen. Thus, the next day began our week-long, self-inflicted Cairo fitness challenge.
Day 1 - Body Jam. This is a kind of aerobic dance, gangsta moves included. We arrive to find a room full of ladies and one middle-aged man who leaves after two songs. I guess it wasn't his scene. Our instructor is Amr. He is wearing a red wifebeater, silver chains, and a flat-brimmed hat, and his athletic pants are stuffed into his sneakers. The class is conducted entirely in English. I find myself karate-chopping at the air and enjoying it immensely. (Spoiler alert: This turned out to be the highlight of my week.)
Day 2 - Pilates. This class is ladies only. I find my mind wandering and I want to sleep. Not really for me.
Day 3 - Zumba. This class takes place in the ladies only gym, which is across the street from the main gym and has most of the same facilities. Mostly I enjoy the smoothie bar. The instructor informs us at the beginning of class that we will actually be doing bellydancing. Unfortunately, my hips don't do that, so I spend much of the time jiggling. I sneak some peeks at the middle-aged Egyptian ladies around me, and am relieved to note that many of them cannot bellydance either. I feel the eyes of four black-clothed munaqabat chilling at the back of the studio, watching (and judging?) us.
Day 4 - Fit Hop. Actually, we arrive to discover that Fit Hop has been cancelled. We work out instead in the ladies' gym.
Day 5 - BodyAttack. Arriving late, I get the distinct impression that this is actually BodyCombat, a very different class. The instructor is wearing black superhero gloves. Ten minutes in, Sarah is fed up and leaves me to high-kick and punch on my own. At first I'm intimidated by the tight, furious jabs of the women in the front. Eventually, though, I hit some kind of endorphin nirvana. I wonder if this was the answer all along to relieving stress and anger over street harassment (and if I missed my calling when I quit after-school karate after the infamous trampling incident of 1998).
Day 6 - Today we fail to live up to our challenge. Instead, I invite friends over for dinner and we cook pumpkin ravioli from scratch.
Day 7 - Zumba. This is the first day of an eight-week class subsidized by AUC. We're on the top floor of a fancy gym in Zamalek now, and our instructor, Reham, is no-nonsense. Her neck is tattooed with Chinese-esque characters. She has us wagging to Beyonce's "Single Ladies" in no time.
Last week I swore to live up to my credo, pledging myself to a week of exercise classes. It all began with a day at El Fit Fitness Festival, an exercise-a-thon that an Egyptian friend of mine organized at the high-tech industry oasis known as Smart Village. In Smart Village, some distance outside Cairo on the Desert Road, all the buildings are miraculously still white and all the windows are filled with blue reflective glass. There is also, notably, grass. Now, despite the gym ads plastered in various locations (including my neighborhood) featuring WWF-worthy bodybuilders with bulging veins, Cairo is not known for its exercise potential -- perhaps because of the hazards of inhaling air while outdoors, or the risk to joggers of being picked off by a swerving microbus pumping its beats. So El Fit sponsored a competition for the buffest guys and girls in Egypt to come prove their mettle. And then there were the hangers-on, like me and Sarah, who came for the Zumba tent and the free yogurt cart.
On our way to El Fit, we stopped for breakfast at Dandy Mall near Smart Village. As soon as we pulled in, I remembered my first day in Egypt in 2006 and my new host family's tour of this very mall. Mostly, I remember my humiliation when we made a beeline for the paper products section of Carrefour. My quiet host mom pointed proudly to the toilet paper aisle: "We were told in orientation that Americans use lots and lots of toilet paper. Here, you can pick whichever brand you like best!"
There was no toilet paper for us this time. Once at Smart Village, I immediately felt inspired by the clean (?) air, the greenery, and the 80-degree sunshine to get fit. The Zumba tent was going strong by 10am, and after an hour or so switched over to ladies only so that the hijab-wearing among the dancers could let their hair hang out. Still not fit enough, I joined a very aerobic outdoor BodyAttack class and found myself airplaning around in a circle at top speed with a bunch of strangers and a barrel-chested Romanian instructor in short-shorts.
Before leaving, Sarah and I were offered free, one-week trial passes to a bougie gym in Mohandiseen. Thus, the next day began our week-long, self-inflicted Cairo fitness challenge.
Day 1 - Body Jam. This is a kind of aerobic dance, gangsta moves included. We arrive to find a room full of ladies and one middle-aged man who leaves after two songs. I guess it wasn't his scene. Our instructor is Amr. He is wearing a red wifebeater, silver chains, and a flat-brimmed hat, and his athletic pants are stuffed into his sneakers. The class is conducted entirely in English. I find myself karate-chopping at the air and enjoying it immensely. (Spoiler alert: This turned out to be the highlight of my week.)
Day 2 - Pilates. This class is ladies only. I find my mind wandering and I want to sleep. Not really for me.
Day 3 - Zumba. This class takes place in the ladies only gym, which is across the street from the main gym and has most of the same facilities. Mostly I enjoy the smoothie bar. The instructor informs us at the beginning of class that we will actually be doing bellydancing. Unfortunately, my hips don't do that, so I spend much of the time jiggling. I sneak some peeks at the middle-aged Egyptian ladies around me, and am relieved to note that many of them cannot bellydance either. I feel the eyes of four black-clothed munaqabat chilling at the back of the studio, watching (and judging?) us.
Day 4 - Fit Hop. Actually, we arrive to discover that Fit Hop has been cancelled. We work out instead in the ladies' gym.
Day 5 - BodyAttack. Arriving late, I get the distinct impression that this is actually BodyCombat, a very different class. The instructor is wearing black superhero gloves. Ten minutes in, Sarah is fed up and leaves me to high-kick and punch on my own. At first I'm intimidated by the tight, furious jabs of the women in the front. Eventually, though, I hit some kind of endorphin nirvana. I wonder if this was the answer all along to relieving stress and anger over street harassment (and if I missed my calling when I quit after-school karate after the infamous trampling incident of 1998).
Day 6 - Today we fail to live up to our challenge. Instead, I invite friends over for dinner and we cook pumpkin ravioli from scratch.
Day 7 - Zumba. This is the first day of an eight-week class subsidized by AUC. We're on the top floor of a fancy gym in Zamalek now, and our instructor, Reham, is no-nonsense. Her neck is tattooed with Chinese-esque characters. She has us wagging to Beyonce's "Single Ladies" in no time.
Getting fit at El Fit. Warming up for BodyAttack.
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