My first (awesome) day in Cairo

Time travel is a trip. My poor body has done pretty well adjusting to the change, especially considering it’s only been two days since I arrived. I don’t necessarily feel tired, more confused – that kind of funny feeling when you’ve been awake too long and everything becomes a little lighter.

Oh, and utterly hilarious.

So here I am at 8:30 in the morning, drinking some mango pomegranate juice – Egypt has the BEST juice – munching on some pita with kiri cheese, and slowly working my way through my daily regimen of vitamins and various other pills. Let’s see: I’ve got your basic women’s once-a-day; I’ve got a “Big 100” dietary supplement, to replenish my B-vitamins; I’ve got Vitamin C 1000 tablets (time release); and finally, a little bottle of Acidophilus, a little greeting party for all the new Egyptian bacteria my body will be encountering in the next few weeks.

Much thanks to my friend Courtney for these; I recommend everyone know someone who works in a vitamin store.

It may seem like overkill to be downing four big horse pills every morning, but let me tell you: while I may not be weak of heart, I am certainly weak of stomach. If my trip to Tunisia the winter before last taught me anything it was this. And nothing puts a damper on an adventurous spirit like…well, you know.

So then, the plan for today! Nicole and I are hoping to do some grocery shopping this morning, seeing as we finally own silverware (our adventure to the kitchen supply store was hilarious; I’ll talk about that in a bit). There’s a big sale this morning in our neighborhood, called something cute like “Cook’s Day Off,” of pre-prepared meals, and we’re definitely hitting that up. The only drawback to Ramadan is that it makes it much harder to find food within the daylight hours, so we figure we should stock up on some provisions. It’s a little more considerate for non-Muslims to eat inside the house anyway; while the Muslims that are fasting certainly don’t expect non-Muslims to do the same, it’s a little rude to eat in front of someone when you know they’re hungry.

Haha, I think I’ll talk about the kitchen store now, as the story is just too funny. Something that Nicole and I realized it that while one dumb white girl in Cairo is obnoxious and frustrating, TWO dumb white girls is HILARIOUS. Our main method of communication is awkward giggling and dramatic pantomime and the locals seem to like that just fine. Personally I feel a little guilty, because Nicole’s 3miya is actually really good – or at least good enough that she can talk to people – and I feel like I’m throwing her back to “Hey look I’m a crazy foreign girl hee hee!” mode. But we’re having such a good time together that I don’t think she minds too much.

So yesterday I slept until 3:30 in the afternoon. Again: time travel is a b**ch. When I finally did manage to stumble out of bed, I took a shower – washing my hair with soap, because I didn’t have shampoo yet – and then Nicole and I headed to downtown Cairo. The public train system in Cairo is great; it’s one pound for a ticket, which, translated into American money, is about 20 cents. The stations are clearly marked, the train cars are dusty but comfortable, and the station is only a 10 minute walk from our apartment. I have a feeling I’ll be training it up quite a bit while I’m here.

Downtown was overwhelming to say the least, but very exciting. It’s loud and crowded and lively, a sort of dirtier, dustier, grittier version of New York City. I feel like gritty is a good word to describe the general feel of Cairo. The drivers here are absolutely insane; since I arrived I’ve been finding it hilarious that they even bother to put lines on the road, as more often than not you’ll find yourself zooming right down the median (most of the roads seem to be one-way, you’re not in an opposing lane, it’s not that crazy). And the round-abouts! While driving home from the airport, we actually went the wrong way around a VERY busy round-about. And yet, no one seems to think anything of it! The thing about Egyptian drivers is, they may be a little crazy, but they’re unbelievably observant. They know exactly what they’re doing. So for all the near-misses and angry words, I’ve been told you’ll seldom see an actual crash.

I digress. So Nicole and I went downtown, and as soon as we got there we realized we were desperately hungry, considering we had slept til afternoon and neither of us had eaten since the night before. To make up for the previous dinner of Pizza Hut – not so Egyptian – Nicole decided I should try her favorite Egyptian meal: Koshari.

Apparently there is nothing more Egyptian than koshari; it’s the national favorite.

[NOTE: I realize I’m making several broad generalizations throughout this blog. They’re based on my very limited experience here, things I’ve heard from friends and my roommate, and things I’ve been told by the Egyptians I’ve met so far. I am obviously no expert on Egyptian culture and thus no one should take these generalizations at absolute face value, but it seems to me they’re pretty truthful, and apply to at least a large number of people. So please don’t be offended or off-put by them]

Unfortunately, Iftar had just began, and everyone was at home with their families breaking the fast; meaning Nicole’s favorite koshari shop was closed. Never daunted, we went to another place she knew of – which was also closed. Somewhat daunted, we stood outside, staring forlornly into the empty restaurant and speculating on what to do, when a man came up to us and asked, in very nice English, “You are looking for koshari?”

Why yes! we replied. But everything is closed!

“I know where another koshari shop is,” he said. “You go up the street, and take a left when you see the big building, and then go all the way down that street, and then – you know what, I’ll just take you. Come on!”

Now, this is a phenomenon that I remember from Tunisia: if you ask someone for directions – or even if you don’t, like in our case – more likely than not they’ll just take you there themselves. Arab culture stresses friendliness, helpfulness, and extroversion much more than our own individualistic American society does, and oftentimes people seem to enjoy going out of their way to help the wayward traveler or citizen in need. I feel like it’s a sort of pay-it-forward mentality; when everyone in a country is willing to do everyone else a favor, eventually it’s got to come back to them.

Our new friend was named Saleem, and he is a an Arabic teacher at a local primary school. He asked us all sorts of things, about how we liked Cairo and how long we had been there (Nicole: two months. Me: One day!), and he made fun of my fas-ha and taught me some useful colloquial phrases, including:

Cool! (“mumtaz,” the modern standard version of “excellent,” does NOT fly in the real world)
That is too expensive!

And our favorite,

I am not a dumb tourist

Saleem brought us to another koshari place – which was ALSO closed. But we decided to make one last ditch effort, and ended up at an adorable little place that was mercifully open (it was probably 7 or 9 o’clock by now and we were STARVING) and had delicious koshari ready in a snap. Another great thing about Egypt is, Nicole and I ate for 10 pounds combined, which is about $2 USD (US dollars). So for $1 each we got a delicious meal, and they were so big we couldn’t even finish!

Our plan after this was to go to a certain café that Nicole likes, which apparently has really good mango juice. It’s all about the mango juice here. They’re in season, and what they do is chill the fruit, then put it through a processor and puree it, so you get this delicious, pulpy juice that you chew more than drink. If you’re a pulp person, it’s heaven.

Since he had dubbed himself our official tour guide, Saleem decided that he may as well find us a café as well. So instead of going to Nicole’s café he led us to this other place, a nice, quiet little spot that miraculously managed to block out the sounds of the city with the help of a ring of tall dark buildings. We sat outside and drank our mango juice and smoked some apple sheesha, and talked about all kinds of things: a lot of travel, and a little bit of politics, and general stories about our lives and our families and whatnot. Then Saleem, in true Arabic professor style, starting quizzing us on our alphabet! He made us write down 12 letters each, and pronounce them, and made up this outrageously challenging game with his carton of cigarettes:

“You see these letters?” he asked up. “M-A-R-L-B-O-R-O. You see each of those letters? Now, make up a story using those letters. The first word begins with a “M,” and you end with an “O.”

Of course neither of us could do it! But it’s an interesting brain teaser, and I think my goal by the end of my months here is to be able to win that game.

Saleem also told us about one of the most popular brands of local joke: Saidi jokes. A Saidi (pronounced “Sigh-ee-dee”) is a man from the South, and they’re sort of viewed like our blonds; in fact, one of the saidi jokes he told us was almost exactly the same thing as a blond joke I know from back home. This was my favorite one, though:

A Saidi wants to buy a television, so he comes to Cairo and goes into a shop. He finds the salesman and says, “Excuse me, I want to buy this television.” The salesman looks at him and says, “I’m sorry, we don’t sell to people from the South.”
The Saidi is terribly offended and leaves the store. He thinks, “How did the man know I’m from the South? It must be my clothing.” People in the South wear very distinctive clothing; long shirt-dresses and hats made from long pieces of fabric wrapped around their heads. So he changes his clothes; puts on jeans and a T-shirt and takes of his hat and comes back.
He goes to the salesman and says, I want to buy this TV.” The salesman looks at him for a minute and says, “No, no: we don’t sell to people from the South.” The Saidi is really upset; he leaves the store again. He thinks to himself, “I changed my clothes, why does he still know I’m from the South? It must be my accent.”
So he changes into shorts, puts on a wind-breaker, sunglasses, puts a backpack over his shoulder and carries a camera, and comes back speaking English. He goes to the salesman and says, in English, “I’d like to buy this TV.” The salesman looks him up and down, is quiet for a moment, and finally says, “I told you: we don’t sell to people from the South.”
The Saidi is furious. He says, “I changed my clothes, I took off my hat, I come here speaking English, and STILL you know I’m from the South! How do you know I am Saidi?!” The salesman sighs, and says, “Because that’s not a TV. That’s a washing machine!”

By this point it was getting kind of late, and we were both tired from our late night the evening before, so Saleem – unasked – gave us a ride back to Maadi (much more pleasant than the train.) We had him drop us off at the Metro market, exchanged numbers and said goodnight, and this is when our shopping adventure began.

I know more Arabic than I let on, but I’ve realized that knowing fas-ha is nothing here. And it’s really embarrassing to be caught using a fas-ha expression; like I’ve said, it’s just really nerdy. If I can think of a proper English-language comparison I’ll put it in here, but the best I can come up with now is a Minnesota accent (because they’re funny) or speaking in Shakespearian tongue in modern-day New York. The latter is probably more appropriate. The point is, I’m pretty much back to square one, which means I’ve been communicating mostly through smiles and pantomimes, and a couple of “chukran”s (“thank you”s) and “min fudlik”s (“please”s).

This is where it comes in handy to have a buddy. As I said at the beginning of the entry; one dumb foreign girl is awkward and annoying; but two together is HILARIOUS. Nicole and I think EVERYHING is funny! Whenever we don’t understand something we just giggle uncontrollably, and everyone here is kind enough that they just laugh along with us. Having a friend puts everything in perspective.

The best example of this was in the kitchen supply store, where we went to get some much-needed household amenities. Nicole and I also find everything really, really exciting, so we were prancing around the store ooh-ing and aah-ing over laundry baskets and dish racks, so the utter amusement of the various employees in the store. One of the younger employees, who looked like he was only a few years older than us, followed us around the whole time – ostensibly to help us, but honestly I think he was just amused. Every time we seemed interested in something he would try to carry it for us or find us another one we might like better, and it was the funniest thing in the world; trying to communicate in our small amount of Arabic, and his small amount of English, and our shared hand gestures. What made it even more ridiculous was that we bought far more than we could even carry – two big laundry baskets each, and a set of silverware, and a measuring cup, and some hangers, and a dish-drying rack, and a trash can…haha, we were just so excited! And we were having so much fun being ridiculous with the employees that we just gave in and had a great time.

Needless to say, we took a taxi home.

So now here I am, the time being 10 am, and I’ll probably grab a shower and think about starting my day. Sorry for the outrageously long post, but I’m having a wonderful time and I want to remember everything! Chances are I’ll get lazier as I go along, but insha allah I can keep up the steam and be a good little documentarian.

When I’m 80, I’ll undoubtedly want to remember that I bought a laundry basket and ate koshari on my first day in Cairo.