Tea, Politics, and a Great Big Mall

As one tends, as a rule, not to get to sleep too early in Egypt, Ross and I headed back out into the night after I typed up my last blog entry to restock our water supply. For this event, I took along my Kroger bag–keeping up my feeble attempts at environmentally friendly living even in Egypt and plugging Kroger in the Arab world.
Upon returning to our building, bags full of bottles of water, we were exuberantly greeted by Tamer who works in the contact lens shop that occupies the ground floor. Before we'd gone out, he'd invited us in for tea and we agreed to come back after our errand.
Good, Egyptian tea is apparently quite caffeinated and chock full of sugar and ended up keeping me awake 'til nearly five in the morning. It was worth it though to be able to converse with a local about a variety of issues from the recent burning of the parliament building and politics, to Ramadan, Arabic, and ants. The term "converse" is here liberally applied due to the fact that it was entirely in Arabic. I was happy to be able to understand the gist of things here and there and find that I'm picking up the language (relatively) quickly.
The following day (yesterday) Ross and I went to the AUC for a graduate orientation. This nearly three hour long event was unnecessarily long and drawn out, much like the process of getting anything accomplished around here. I did, at least, have the chance to meet a few students from the Center for Migration and Refugee Studies. Two of them had been working at a refugee camp in Kenya prior to coming here, all of them were older than me. Rather than be intimidated or feel inadequate, I'm grateful that I'll be able to learn even from my peers who, if this small group is any indication, have invaluable experience and wisdom to impart.
Upon arriving home and checking my email, I found that I have finally been assigned a host Rotary club: Kasr el Nil RC! I have yet to hear anything from them, but at least I have a name.
Quitting the apartment, we left for what was my first experience on Cairo's surprisingly clean metro. Despite the cleanliness (arguably cleaner than Paris and New York's homologous underground stations,) the cars are frightfully overcrowded. The diminished sense of personal space further compounds the problem. Somehow, we made it to Al-Zaitoon, in the northeast of Cairo, in one piece only to have to wait outside the station for my friend Maged to arrive. In the mean time, Ross snapped what promise to be some great shots of a fruitseller and the general hubbub outside. A girl, younger than us, dressed in pink from headscarf to toe kept glancing at us furtively and, finally garnered up the courage to practice her English on us. "What is your name?" she blurted out without a greeting. "Uh...Carl. Wa enti (Arabic for 'and you?' when talking to a female)" "Marwa!" Then she was off again to muster some more courage upon the finding of which she returned to ask, "Where?" "Where what? Where am I from?" "Yes, where from?" "Amreeka." (America in Arabic, as you might've guessed). She went on to tell me that she had an uncle in America, thus exhausting, I think, all of her English at which point she went away satisfied with her foreigner adventure.
As I may've mentioned, I make an effort to respond to people, even when it's tentative or seemingly frivolous conversation. More often than not, someone wants to sell me something or have me get in their taxi, but there're no small number of people who are simply curious. I find that kids (like the one who works or at least spends lots of time in the koshary place two doors down from us) are the most curious or at least the most unabashedly curious. They love shouting out "hello" and waiting for some kind of reaction. Of course, that's often the only word they know, so I get it coming and going to mean hello, goodbye, and anything in between.
Anyway, our point in taking the metro was to meet up with Maged to go to "City Stars" mall. Despite our Egyptian friends insistence that it was bigger and better than anything we'd seen in America, the mall itself is smaller than the Mall of America in my native Minnesota. It's part of a bigger complex, though, of hotels and residences. A monstrosity, in my opinion. Megamalls and suburban development have never sat well with me. Nonetheless, Maged was excited to take us to one of his favorite hangouts. The place reminded me more of the States than anything I've seen here, though with a bit more dust and a little more slapdash. Skeptical as I was when I saw a food court with Burger King, McDonald's, Sbarro, Panda House, and more, I was delighted to hear that there was a Wagamama in the mall. This had become a favorite of many of us Bradley May term abroad students in 2006 in London. Though the quality wasn't quite what it was in the UK, it was delicious and I was able to get veggies I'd been craving. Ross and I also had fun teaching Maged how to use chopsticks. We got done with dinner quite late and then made a mad dash through Spinneys before Maged's parents fetched us at probably half past midnight (the mall closes at 1 AM as do many things around here). We had anticipated a long and expensive taxi ride home, so it was a pleasant surprise to be driven all the way home. Egyptian hospitality is reknowned: during our car ride we were invited to dine with them in the future and the next day, we received a message saying that the family wanted us to go to their beach house sometime. During the carride itself, my attempts at Arabic were laughed at (good-naturedly of course) and Maged's parents teased one another about their English. We whizzed past the location of Anwar Sadat's assassination and his monument adjacent to it in Maged's father's Mercedes.
I bring up the car because, while waiting back at the mall, I'd asked Maged what car to look for and whether or not it would be the same black SUV as the one in which I was picked up from the airport. "No," he said "Dad is rich, it's a Mercedes." He laughed and I wondered uneasily at his candor before reminding myself that, even if his statement was a little gauche, finances and how one talks about them are thought of much differently in Egypt. Egyptians expect to be able to ask someone how much they pay in rent (and indeed Ross and I were asked how that and how much our tuition was in the carride home) without any kind of discomfort.
Well, it's already mid-afternoon and Ross and I might try to do a tour of Cairo this evening, so I ought to get my act together before much more of the day gets away from me.

The Cheap Gets Cheaper

I realize that my last couple of entries were a bit lengthy, so I'll try to up the brevity in the future.
This morning, Ross and I headed back to AUC to visit the bookstore; I was hoping to find an Arabic phrasebook. It was, however, closed for inventory--something not mentioned anywhere else. Ma'alish! My diminutive Arabic vocabulary has been slowly but surely expanding as I listen and interact (and get some help from Ross and other friends. I'm sure he's tired of me practicing my ayin, which I'm convinced I'll never figure out how to pronounce. Egyptians are amused and more friendly when I thank them or ask a question in their language, so I figure, despite the minor embarrassment involved, it's good to practice.
We had koshary for lunch again, this time at a place Ross has eaten at before a couple of doors down from our place. The waiter, enthused at our arrival, was jovial and engaging but insisted on pouring the spicy chili sauce himself onto our meals. My germophobic little eyes widened as the condiment streamed out of an open container theretofore sitting on the table for God knows how long under his dirty thumb held over the opening. I cringed, but proceeded to gobble most of the delicious dish down. Ma'alish.
We returned to our apartment in time to hear a tinny rendition of happy birthday ring out (our awful doorbell, not a festive party) announcing that yet another man had come to collect on an electric bill that wasn't ours. That's how electricity is paid for here, to someone that comes door-to-door. A call to Ahmed our landlord whom Ross put on the phone with our guest seemed to fix things, to our relief.
Not a whole lot was accomplish in the day between this and dinner, but I did hear back from a Rotarian here in Egypt that I emailed back in July. Ross also received assurances from our scholarship coordinator that he was contacting someone. We'll see what comes of it.
For dinner, we wandered northward, a direction we'd yet to explore. En route, we were the only Westerners to be seen, save for the advertisements and mannequins defining for Egyptians some ersatz aesthetic ideal in which they would be just a little more beautiful if they looked a little less Egyptian. This kind of dangerous colonial holdover leads to whitening creams both here and in sub-Saharan Africa and has been blamed for cosmetic eye surgery in Asian populations in Asia and abroad.
Arriving at our destination, we found a surprisingly clean and tastefully-tiled restaurant serving food yet cheaper than Felfela where we'd dined the previous two nights. I bit the bullet and had a tomato and cucumber salad (despite being told something about not eating fruits and veggies you can't peel). We'll see if I'm dying of dysentery tomorrow, if not, it'll be a small victory. I also had spicy stuffed eggplant, some kind of soft Egyptian cheese with tomato, and baba ghanoug which is known also sometimes as mutabbal in Lebanon and thus at Haddad's on Main in Peoria where I enjoyed it from time to time in college. Elsewhere in the Arab world it's called baba ghanoush or ganuj–the Egyptian dialect of Arabic has the peculiarity of replacing the j sound with a hard g. Thus jamil (beatiful) becomes gamil, etc. All this, with bread, water, tax, and tip only cost me the equivalent of $1.58. I'm telling you, if you're worried about the rising cost of food in the states, I have just the place for you.
Anyway, soon we'll be heading back out into the night (it's 11:35 PM) to get some bottled water. Places open later and stay open later here, many until 1 AM. That's a welcome change from France where things always seemed to be closing too early for my taste.

Can you get me a visa?

I realize I just published a post, but I thought I'd add a second one more geared toward people I've encountered. As an "ambassador of goodwill" as my Rotary mandate calls me to be, I often think about my comportment in the street and how I might be coming off to Egyptians. Even though I've only been here a few days, how I perceive the people here has shifted enormously. I'll admit that despite considering myself an open-minded, worldly type of guy, I had and continue to have my fair share of stubbornly ingrained prejudices. Tense, nervous, and worried about getting ripped off is an approach that I foresee melting away (though slowly) as I begin to reinterpret quirks and nuances of the Egyptian people that I haven't grasped right off. I've begun replying, smiling to children and teens who find great novelty in saying hello in English to a tow-headed, blue-eyed foreigner and, to my great relief, more often than not, they're not asking for money. Whether they're laughing at me or just nervously (or both) I don't know and don't really care.
Very often taxi drivers are pushy (many will slow down, but not stop, honk ceaselessly at you, and gesture wildly for you to get into their dilapidated, most likely only partially functional vehicle in hopes you'll desire their services). In light of this, I have taken to ignoring them (often the best course of action,) but today when asked if I wanted a taxi by drivers outside of their cars, I said "no, thank you" as politely as possible in my limited Arabic and found, to my amazement, that some took no for an answer. So they do have ears! This isn't an apologetic for all cabbies in Egypt, indeed many are rudely persistent, but it goes to show that one mustn't generalize. When you actually do hop in a taxi, it becomes about not getting taken advantage of. When leaving Al-Azhar, I told Ross we should try to get a cab for 5-6 LE (Egyptian Pounds; from the French Livres égyptiens) if possible. The first cabdriver we came across asked for 10 or 12 pounds and, when we declined, he drove off in disgust. The second asked for ten and I said "la" (no in Arabic) and began to walk off. We had told him we'd pay six and he said that ten was a good price. In a moment, the woman who'd just gotten out of the vehicle told us to come back, that the cab drive had agreed to our price. As we got in, he quoted us a new price of eight. Defeated, I rolled my eyes and hopped in the backseat anyway. "Good brice, good brice," laughed the driver, "Americans are rich!"
"LA, LA, LA," I retorted, "we're students." As the drive went on though, Ross, who's much more proficient in Arabic than I am, exchanged some words with what turned out to be a good-natured and kind-seeming man. He pointed out various landmarks to us, taught us some words in Arabic, and--the kicker--knew where the heck he was going (sometimes hard to find in a taxi-driver here). We were suckered, of course, by his charm and, without him even asking, we gave him 10 LE. That's about $1.86 for a five and a half mile cab ride...so we weren't too much worse for the wear.

Going back in time to our visit to Al-Azhar: Ross and I stopped a couple of times to buy maya (water in Arabic) from guys at Nestlé (nest-luh, as it's pronounced here according to my venerable roommate) carts selling ice cream, soda, and water. The second guy was jovial and chatty and tried to get me to give him a US dollar "for to remember" and, after I refused, he then surprised us by producing an American dollar from a wad of money and tried to sell it to me! We joked and laugh and then he inquired, "Can I ask you a question? Is it true visa on internet or is it liar?" Ross and I assured him that there were countless e-scams out there pretending to be able to procure legal passage to the States for non-Americans. He asked "Then how can I visit America? Can you help me visit America?" We laughed and told him he'd have to visit the embassy. It occurred to me though that he'll probably never get to experience my country as I am his. The restrictions on his entry into the States, for one, are prohibitive. Secondly, the financial gap between the average American and the average Egyptian is such that even middle class Americans can romp all around the globe if they wish (though it may take some planning and wise financial decisions) whereas only the wealthiest Egyptians could ever hope to get to the US. It saddened me to think that my newfound chum, Hassan, would be "stuck" in Egypt, while I was allowed to come and go as I pleased.

Cheap Cuisine Continued (and Smoggy Sunsets)

I'll pick up where I left off, which was right before getting to the other reason for the title of the last post: Ross, Glenn, and I had an absolutely fantastic meal last night of tahina, aish, and taamia (Egyptian falafel), and ful with onions and parsley, at a place called Felfela. The restaurant was not too far from our dinner location the previous night (at Le Bistro). Stuffing ourselves with Egyptian cuisine (and not having eaten a single dinner in) is something one might find excessive, but I assure you, doing so is the epitome of frugality. Splitting the check three ways, each of us paid, with tax and tip, the equivalent of $2.99. Wow!
One might be little surprised that Ross and I were there yet again tonight, though we had ful with tahina mixed in, taamia in a sort of omelette, and "lemonade" this time. We splurged on dessert, getting an Egyptian favorite, om ali.
We definitely earned the dessert: after a morning of Kafkaesque office-hopping at AUC (sans breakfast because the inane registration procedures for orientation prevented us getting one) and only some lentil soup (albeit delicious lentil soup) and ice-blended drinks (mine was anise-flavored) to pass for lunch, we dragged ourselves home. I indulged in a piece of toasted aish with some Tanners Orchard apple butter slathered on for a taste of home, but had nothing else as we set out on a 5.5 mile journey east and north past Abdeen Palace and the Museum of Islamic Art up Port Said Street, over on Al-Azhar Street to the Khan al-Khalili (which wasn't as lively as usual, because most of its shops are closed on Sunday; Friday, however is the holy day in Egypt) and finally to Al-Azhar Park. Rather than ramble on about it, I'll include a photo I took there at sunset:Then again, as you can see, the sun's a bit high in the sky, so perhaps it was the hazy layer of smog hanging in the air in Cairo that softened the sun's rays. Whatever the effect on my lungs, the effect on my eyes was wonderful.

Slow Going and Cheap Cuisine

My first full day in Egypt was rather slow, which was fine since, as I mentioned in my last blog, jet-lag's my close companion these days. I did, however, take the important step (with the help of my roommate) of procuring a cellphone. About 400 minutes set me back less than the equivalent of than $20. We did some other wandering around, had grand ideas about going to Carrefour, a hypermarket (kind of like a Wal-Mart), but ended up wandering our neighborhood--Bab el Louq. In the evening, we went to a French-esque place called Le Bistro where I conversed with the waiter in French. Blaring through the speakers were the stylings of French and American crooners and, of all people, Cat Stevens. Perhaps he's found admiration anew in Muslim countries because of his conversion.
This afternoon, we had quite a different and much more authentically Egypt lunch with another Rotary ambassadorial scholar, Ambereen Shaffie. Representing District #5710, she and I had met back in late February/early March at the outbound orientation session. The lunch was at a koshary place in Tahrir Square. Koshary is a cheap and delicious meal...and I mean cheap. For the equivalent of $0.94 one gets a "medium" bowl of the concoction of pasta, lentils, chick peas, etc. I myself couldn't even finish it. It's a great source of nutrition (especially protein) for vegetarians or partial veggies (like myself).
I went with Ambereen to Zamalek, where she's living in the AUC dorms. Let's just say that the island in the Nile is quite a different neighborhood than Bab el Louq. There're trees, more and more clearly visible street signs, Westerners milling about, and Western-style cafés. In one such café I gobbled down a gingerbread man (who knew you could find such a thing in the Middle East) that cost more than my entire lunch. Ambereen and I chatted about Rotary and the kind of service opportunities we're each hoping to find here. Because my graduate studies will focus on refugees, I naturally hope to find some avenue (and there are countless here) to volunteer with them.
My next Zamalek stop was yet another café where I met up with a guy formerly with the Red Cross in Washington, D.C. who is now studying Arabic here. We chatted (over "lemonade" which is, in fact, made exclusively with limes in Egypt) and I dragged him along to help me navigate a nearby grocery store. I came away with lots of juices, remember how plentiful, inexpensive, and delicious the various varieties were here last time, some aish baladi (the Egyptian answer to pita), hummus, labneh, lentils, and more. I was tempted to buy the Ramadan bag--full of goodies for the month full of fasting and feasting that I'll surely be talking more about soon, but wasn't sure what to prepare with the ingredients inside or how to prepare them.
Well, Ross and I have orientation tomorrow, so further descriptions (and photos!) of my neighborhood will be up tomorrow.

Carl in Cairo

After what was perhaps the most glorious and satisfying shower of my life, I got dressed and plopped down on an overstuffed armchair in my new (to me, otherwise, quite old) rather kitschy living room to write up this entry.
Arriving yesterday into Cairo International from New York via Frankfurt, I enjoyed a very easy entry into Egypt: no delays at passport or customs and no lost luggage. My ride, the grandson of the cousin of the father of a friend of friends (al-hamdulillah for obscure connections), arrived in typical Egyptian fashion: late but full of hospitality and goodwill. In Egypt, the concept of time is vastly different than our efficiency-driven American paradigm. The wave of Cairene heat hit me as I left the building and headed for the the black SUV that was to convey me through the treacherous streets of Cairo and to my apartment (eventually). "Not as hot as I remember," I thought optimistically myself, reflecting on my last visit to the country in late July, 2005.
Though infinitely thankful not to be taking a taxi, I had to laugh (nervously) to myself as my friend's driver stopped half a dozen times to try and ascertain where exactly we were going. He deftly dodged other cars, cyclists, and fearless pedestrians as we made our way into downtown Cairo, which we promptly left, ending up driving through Zamalek (a neighborhood/island in the Nile) and to the wrong side of the river into a quarter called al-Doqqi. Amazingly, I remembered the layout of the city from last time, and was able to explain that I was pretty sure we were going the wrong way. Of course, the driver didn't listen to me at first, but later relented and ended up bringing me to my new home on Tahrir Street, not too far from AUC's old campus.
My roommate, Ross, a Rotary ambassadorial scholar from District #5810 in Texas has turned out to be a godsend--he lined up the apartment before arriving and has been here for a while already, enabling him to show me the ropes and work out kinks with the landlord. Though fading fast from lack of sleep and the time change, I managed to have lively conversation with Maged, the young man who'd come to meet me at the airport, Ross, and our neighbor Karyn until it was time for us to get some grub. We wandered through the crowded, dirty streets to, of all things, a Swiss restaurant. Now, when something is "Swiss" or "Italian" or anything else exotic in Cairo, it's not quite authentic. In fact, I was able to enjoy moussaka, a Mediterranean dish, though the Egyptian take on röschti might've been interesting.
Though I'll readily admit that Egypt is overwhelming and quite intimidating, as pre-dinner and dinner conversation turned to the Arab-Israeli conflict, the idiosyncrasies of Egypt, Islam on the very first night, I knew that I'd made the right decision and that this year, though hugely challenging, will be fantastic. As one might expect, Ross and I have a lot in common in terms of interest. In fact, we found out that we both interned in the same section (Diplomatic Security) in our respective embassies (Lima, Peru for him, Paris for me). Ross has already made connections with a Young Diplomats club and I have friends in the area from a Global Young Leaders Conference I did in high school as well as other connections that should be a good start to our meeting friends and serving as ambassadors of goodwill and understanding. Hopefully we'll soon hear from our scholarship coordinator at Rotary HQ about being assigned clubs, but no word on that yet.
Though I got a relatively good night's sleep, jet leg is keeping me a bit groggy, so I'll leave off blogging for now!

From New York with...Nervous Anticipation

I'm sitting in my father's apartment in Midtown Manhattan, going through a mental checklist of everything I need to remember for tomorrow when I hop on a Lufthansa flight from JFK headed for Frankfurt, Germany. From there, I'll be on my way to Cairo at last!
Though I still have not been assigned a host Rotary Club and have no Egyptian Rotary contacts, I was able to get in touch with another Rotary scholar (from Texas) also studying at AUC who had lined up an apartment and was in need of a roommate. The apartment, not far from AUC's Old Campus in downtown Cairo, seems to be conveniently located and, mostly importantly has the two fundamental elements of life: air conditioning and wireless internet.
Unable to make it up to the Egyptian consulate in Chicago for my visa, I went to the one here in New York to get that important aspect of my journey taken care of. Last time I visited Cairo, I simply gave them $15 at the airport in cash and was given a visa in return. I didn't want to chance it this time around though.
So, I have clothes, medicine, toiletries, snacks, two Qur'ans (one in French and Arabic and the other in English--it's interesting on which points the translations differ in tone and wording), a Lonely Planet guide to Egypt, my passport, some power adapters and a converter, a journal, my laptop, and a whole lot of butterflies in my stomach!
I will be landing in Cairo at 2:15 PM local time on Thursday the 21st (6:15 AM Peoria time) insha'Allah (which means God willing-quite a common phrase in Egypt and in the rest of the Muslim world.)