While most of the world has become accustomed to the luxury of frost-free refrigerators, here in Cairo they are virtually unknown. Every week I find myself excavating frozen food out of my freezer with a hammer. Somewhere in the glacier inside my freezer is an ice tray, bottle of hooch and month-old leftovers from Fu-Shing Chinese restaurant.
Attempting to retrieve ice cubes for my drink, I one day hammered through chunks of block ice the size of grapefruits to unearth my ice tray. In doing so, one swift blow struck the rear freezer wall, puncturing it and allowing the freon to blast out and deflate my miniature Antarctica.
OK, using a hammer on the ice sheet inside the freezer was really a khawaga (stupid foreigner) idea. Usually I would just unplug the fridge and wait five or six hours, but I’d been in a rush. Explaining the hole, albeit imperceptible, at the back of my freezer to my landlord would require some finesse.
A week passed before anyone came to repair the fridge. The “mohandis tabreed” (refrigeration engineer) as he called himself was a complete amm (idiot). Him and his bilya (apprentice) stormed into my apartment as if they had a clue about their profession. They didn't.
First stop was the bathroom. But finding no fridge there he concluded it must be in the kitchen (I admit, I gave him hints). Then, like a doctor making a house-call, he assessed the situation.
"There's a hole in the freezer" the engineer said, mimicking what I'd been saying for the last ten minutes.
"No **** Sherlock" I said in Arabic, but I don't think it translated well.
After a monetary powwow with his apprentice, the engineer deduced that the entire freezer box would have to be replaced for LE200 ($55). With this he gestured to emphasize the size of the hole, the gap between his hands indicated it was the size of a grapefruit. I in turn pointed out that I had already sealed the microscopic hole with silicone and only needed new freon gas.
“Silicone won’t work,” he replied smugly, chuckling to his apprentice.
“Ok, what will work?” I asked, hoping for a professional answer.
Only then he discovered the two tubes of liquid metal repair in his pocket that must have been irritating his inner thighs all morning.
"I could use this to secure the seal," he said in engineering brilliance.
"Yes, why not do that," I replied.
The price of the minor engineering feat was set at LE60 including freon. My happy freezer is once again manufacturing ice sheets and the guilty hammer has been banned from the kitchen. As for me, I’m having my first glass of iced chai in a week. Cheers.

quote:

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Originally posted by baksheesh:
Nobody's contributing to this folder, so I thought I'd start off with an 'Egyptian' experience...

While most of the world has become accustomed to the luxury of frost-free refrigerators, here in Cairo they are virtually unknown. Every week I find myself excavating frozen food out of my freezer with a hammer. Somewhere in the glacier inside my freezer is an ice tray, bottle of hooch and month-old leftovers from Fu-Shing Chinese restaurant.
Attempting to retrieve ice cubes for my drink, I one day hammered through chunks of block ice the size of grapefruits to unearth my ice tray. In doing so, one swift blow struck the rear freezer wall, puncturing it and allowing the freon to blast out and deflate my miniature Antarctica.
OK, using a hammer on the ice sheet inside the freezer was really a khawaga (stupid foreigner) idea. Usually I would just unplug the fridge and wait five or six hours, but I’d been in a rush. Explaining the hole, albeit imperceptible, at the back of my freezer to my landlord would require some finesse.
A week passed before anyone came to repair the fridge. The “mohandis tabreed” (refrigeration engineer) as he called himself was a complete amm (idiot). Him and his bilya (apprentice) stormed into my apartment as if they had a clue about their profession. They didn't.
First stop was the bathroom. But finding no fridge there he concluded it must be in the kitchen (I admit, I gave him hints). Then, like a doctor making a house-call, he assessed the situation.
"There's a hole in the freezer" the engineer said, mimicking what I'd been saying for the last ten minutes.
"No **** Sherlock" I said in Arabic, but I don't think it translated well.
After a monetary powwow with his apprentice, the engineer deduced that the entire freezer box would have to be replaced for LE200 ($55). With this he gestured to emphasize the size of the hole, the gap between his hands indicated it was the size of a grapefruit. I in turn pointed out that I had already sealed the microscopic hole with silicone and only needed new freon gas.
“Silicone won’t work,” he replied smugly, chuckling to his apprentice.
“Ok, what will work?” I asked, hoping for a professional answer.
Only then he discovered the two tubes of liquid metal repair in his pocket that must have been irritating his inner thighs all morning.
"I could use this to secure the seal," he said in engineering brilliance.
"Yes, why not do that," I replied.
The price of the minor engineering feat was set at LE60 including freon. My happy freezer is once again manufacturing ice sheets and the guilty hammer has been banned from the kitchen. As for me, I’m having my first glass of iced chai in a week. Cheers.

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As for language schools, I'm also not for them as they are way overpriced unless you're planning a career requiring Arabic. You might, however, consider taking an introductory course at the British Council or ILI to familiarize yourself with the Arabic script and grammar, but the rest is easily learned through self study and conversation. I think the money saved could be better spent elsewhere.