Ding Dong

As I lie in bed, reading my favorite David Sedaris story, I hear the shriek of our doorbell. It was around a quarter to 11:00pm, but its Ramadan, and its Egypt, so I really shouldn't have been surprised if our landlord who was supposed to come at 6:00pm to fix the air conditioner was finally showing up. I was in my pajamas, but unlike the average Egyptian, I don't like to answer the door in only boxers and a tee-shirt. For as conservative as the average Egyptian is on the street, what they wear in the house when they open the door is entirely different. I wait for the ding donging to cease, recalling that Christmas when Markell and I cowered in silence, giggling in our cowardice, but nonetheless hoping that the persistent carolers would just leave us in peace. "Ding-Dong" "Ding-Dong" "ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong" I must say I admired this unknown caller's persistence. I threw on a skirt and a jacket, and checked the peephole, and smiled. I opened the door to find our downstairs neighbor, Um Muhammad, who is about 4'11, and all smiles. "Were you sleeping?" She asks brightly, and then gestures that I follow her downstairs. After noticing my hesitation, she explains that she has some food for us, bringing her hand to her mouth and rubbing her belly, demonstrating her previous career as a mime. I figure out that she is going to be giving me my favorite Egyptian dish, "Mulakhia" which is a delicious green soup whose content I still really haven't figured out. I follow her downstairs and she brings me into her apartment, and gives me some stuffed peppers "Mahshi" and my desired "Mulakhia". She put the food in "to go" bowls and waved me on my merry way back to my apartment. As I put the food in the fridge, I thought about the courtship of Egyptian neighbors. Two days ago she gave us a Hibuscus drink and a Date cocktail, then we progressed to food, and now I can only assume that soon our relationship will progress to a four hour dinner which will perhaps seal the deal.