Sunday, June 26, 2005
Cairo-Visitors-Jan. 17, 2003
We’ve had two visitors since I last posted. And the two experiences couldn’t have been more different. One visitor is well-traveled and fairly adventurous; the other had never left North America until this trip. It was interesting for us to see our chosen city through the eyes of these very different people, particularly since our culture shock has more or less worn off.
Our first guest has even got the bug, as they say here, and is considering moving here in about six months or so. She is Jewish and believes in order to be a better Jew she should learn about Islam from within. She fell in love with the people here who befriended her immediately. She also is simply in search of a truly foreign experience.
The second guest, well, let’s just say he will think twice about making a trip to the Third World again. I spent some time analyzing why some people take to Cairo right away and why some people are initially repelled by it and I think I have come up with some conclusions.
One thing our second guest kept repeating and would not accept is the fact that Cairennes do not use the lines on the streets when driving. He also very accurately observed that the lack of driving within the lines was somewhat of a metaphor for the whole society — meaning nothing here is done in a straight line, nothing is efficient and nothing seems very logical. And although this is all very true, I think it says more about American society than it does about this society. American society is so rigid and caught up in its rules and regulations that Americans begin to assume that the way it is done in America is the logical way, is the straight and most efficient way. But who ever said driving from point A to point B is the most interesting way? Getting lost or meandering is the sweetness of life. Think how much more you learn about yourself when you are lost or powerless. Americans think only about the most efficient way, the fastest route with the least distractions.
And the sheer fact is that America is in the minority in this instance. Go to Mexico City, Rome, Moscow, Shanghai…there are no lines in those places either, no American sense of logic in the way the government is run or the way society functions.
Another reason why our guest had such a hard time functioning is another result of Americanization, or maybe suburbanization. He said that he couldn’t imagine driving here because when he drives at home he uses the time to relax and tune out. But here the notion of tuning out or getting lost in your own thoughts is a complete impossibility unless you are traveling outside of Cairo. You must be engaged in what is around you at all times in this city. Be aware. Be alert. Your life depends on it. And if you are the kind of person who cannot engage in the world around you and prefer to live in a world of your own making, this society will eat you up.
It’s partly just the age-old difference of city vs. small town. There are people for whom chaos is an inspiration. And there are people for whom chaos repels. And on the other hand, there are people who live in rural areas who find peace with the simple life while city people who visit rural areas have a hard time finding creative and thoughtful ways of entertaining themselves.
I think our second guest did manage to find something redeeming about the city after his 10 days: the people. In a city with 20 million of them, you cannot avoid them; you cannot dismiss them and once you allow them in, you will not regret it. Our guest learned this with the help of two young local boys. After one afternoon with them, all the things he had hated about this place seemed to dissipate and he announced that he might even miss it.
Speaking of locals, Davin and I recently had an amusing experience with one. We have made friends with Egyptians fairly unabashedly, against the advice of some of our Western brethren who prefer the company of their own. One such acquaintance, an 18-year-old grocery boy named Yahia, took our friendliness a little more to heart than we had wanted. We met him some months ago at a grocery store that we frequent. He talked a lot with Davin in Arabic and the result was that after asking Davin for our phone number, Davin gave it to him not really expecting to hear from him. Some weeks later, I was at home sick and had ordered groceries to be delivered (it costs 20 cents for delivery!). The phone rang about 10 minutes before the delivery boy was scheduled to show up. The caller was young, male and spoke only a tiny bit of English. I didn’t know who it was and, assuming it was the grocery boy, I said “are you from the store”? He said “yes, yes, from the store.” Then he asked what I was doing now, which I heard as “where are you now,” which I interpreted to mean he had gotten lost. So I gave him our address in Arabic to which he asked “Now?” and I said in Arabic, “Taban, delwattie.” “Of course, now.”
Some five or ten minutes later, the doorbell rings and I open the door and in walks Yahia who I don’t recognize as Yahia and assume is the right grocery boy. But he has no groceries. So there we are in the corridor of my apartment without my husband home (hugely taboo in this culture) staring at each other trying to communicate. I am starting to freak out because I have no idea who he is or what he wants. He mentions Davin’s name, and the Egyptian Museum. After about five minutes, I just say to him in Arabic “call Davin later but please leave now.”
Turns out he had recently run into Davin and told him he wanted to take us to the Egyptian Museum. So when he called here he meant to invite us to the museum, but in my confusion over who he was, I basically said … “Here is my address, come over now.”
Within the next week, he was calling here constantly and late at night — even after Davin said to him “don’t ever come to my house again unless I am home.” So Davin finally decides to visit Yahia at work and politely let him know that we appreciate his friendliness but that we will call him when we are free to visit the museum.
So Davin goes to the grocery store but Yahia isn’t there. He approaches the orange juice guy and asks about Yahia and says he will tell Yahia’s boss if he doesn’t stop calling us. Davin says “In our country, it is customary to call someone’s home only after many months of knowing them.” The orange juice guy says “yes, yes, it is the same in our country. You call someone only after knowing them well….Oh and if you have any more trouble or need anything, here is my number.”
Davin had another interesting run-in (no pun intended) with a local a couple of weeks ago. He was jogging down a one-way street and thus he didn’t look both ways when he crossed the street. Boom! He got hit from behind by an old guy in run-down Fiat. He went up on the hood of the car and then slid off. Luckily, he didn’t break anything. While he was on the ground, very shocked and in pain, the driver rushed to his side and began furiously kissing Davin’s cheeks. Davin yells at him to stop kissing him and then in Arabic yells, “You look. You must look. You drive bad!” — which were not the words he really wanted to use. His scrapes and bruises have gone and he has finally learned much stronger language to use in case something like this happens again.
Our first guest has even got the bug, as they say here, and is considering moving here in about six months or so. She is Jewish and believes in order to be a better Jew she should learn about Islam from within. She fell in love with the people here who befriended her immediately. She also is simply in search of a truly foreign experience.
The second guest, well, let’s just say he will think twice about making a trip to the Third World again. I spent some time analyzing why some people take to Cairo right away and why some people are initially repelled by it and I think I have come up with some conclusions.
One thing our second guest kept repeating and would not accept is the fact that Cairennes do not use the lines on the streets when driving. He also very accurately observed that the lack of driving within the lines was somewhat of a metaphor for the whole society — meaning nothing here is done in a straight line, nothing is efficient and nothing seems very logical. And although this is all very true, I think it says more about American society than it does about this society. American society is so rigid and caught up in its rules and regulations that Americans begin to assume that the way it is done in America is the logical way, is the straight and most efficient way. But who ever said driving from point A to point B is the most interesting way? Getting lost or meandering is the sweetness of life. Think how much more you learn about yourself when you are lost or powerless. Americans think only about the most efficient way, the fastest route with the least distractions.
And the sheer fact is that America is in the minority in this instance. Go to Mexico City, Rome, Moscow, Shanghai…there are no lines in those places either, no American sense of logic in the way the government is run or the way society functions.
Another reason why our guest had such a hard time functioning is another result of Americanization, or maybe suburbanization. He said that he couldn’t imagine driving here because when he drives at home he uses the time to relax and tune out. But here the notion of tuning out or getting lost in your own thoughts is a complete impossibility unless you are traveling outside of Cairo. You must be engaged in what is around you at all times in this city. Be aware. Be alert. Your life depends on it. And if you are the kind of person who cannot engage in the world around you and prefer to live in a world of your own making, this society will eat you up.
It’s partly just the age-old difference of city vs. small town. There are people for whom chaos is an inspiration. And there are people for whom chaos repels. And on the other hand, there are people who live in rural areas who find peace with the simple life while city people who visit rural areas have a hard time finding creative and thoughtful ways of entertaining themselves.
I think our second guest did manage to find something redeeming about the city after his 10 days: the people. In a city with 20 million of them, you cannot avoid them; you cannot dismiss them and once you allow them in, you will not regret it. Our guest learned this with the help of two young local boys. After one afternoon with them, all the things he had hated about this place seemed to dissipate and he announced that he might even miss it.
Speaking of locals, Davin and I recently had an amusing experience with one. We have made friends with Egyptians fairly unabashedly, against the advice of some of our Western brethren who prefer the company of their own. One such acquaintance, an 18-year-old grocery boy named Yahia, took our friendliness a little more to heart than we had wanted. We met him some months ago at a grocery store that we frequent. He talked a lot with Davin in Arabic and the result was that after asking Davin for our phone number, Davin gave it to him not really expecting to hear from him. Some weeks later, I was at home sick and had ordered groceries to be delivered (it costs 20 cents for delivery!). The phone rang about 10 minutes before the delivery boy was scheduled to show up. The caller was young, male and spoke only a tiny bit of English. I didn’t know who it was and, assuming it was the grocery boy, I said “are you from the store”? He said “yes, yes, from the store.” Then he asked what I was doing now, which I heard as “where are you now,” which I interpreted to mean he had gotten lost. So I gave him our address in Arabic to which he asked “Now?” and I said in Arabic, “Taban, delwattie.” “Of course, now.”
Some five or ten minutes later, the doorbell rings and I open the door and in walks Yahia who I don’t recognize as Yahia and assume is the right grocery boy. But he has no groceries. So there we are in the corridor of my apartment without my husband home (hugely taboo in this culture) staring at each other trying to communicate. I am starting to freak out because I have no idea who he is or what he wants. He mentions Davin’s name, and the Egyptian Museum. After about five minutes, I just say to him in Arabic “call Davin later but please leave now.”
Turns out he had recently run into Davin and told him he wanted to take us to the Egyptian Museum. So when he called here he meant to invite us to the museum, but in my confusion over who he was, I basically said … “Here is my address, come over now.”
Within the next week, he was calling here constantly and late at night — even after Davin said to him “don’t ever come to my house again unless I am home.” So Davin finally decides to visit Yahia at work and politely let him know that we appreciate his friendliness but that we will call him when we are free to visit the museum.
So Davin goes to the grocery store but Yahia isn’t there. He approaches the orange juice guy and asks about Yahia and says he will tell Yahia’s boss if he doesn’t stop calling us. Davin says “In our country, it is customary to call someone’s home only after many months of knowing them.” The orange juice guy says “yes, yes, it is the same in our country. You call someone only after knowing them well….Oh and if you have any more trouble or need anything, here is my number.”
Davin had another interesting run-in (no pun intended) with a local a couple of weeks ago. He was jogging down a one-way street and thus he didn’t look both ways when he crossed the street. Boom! He got hit from behind by an old guy in run-down Fiat. He went up on the hood of the car and then slid off. Luckily, he didn’t break anything. While he was on the ground, very shocked and in pain, the driver rushed to his side and began furiously kissing Davin’s cheeks. Davin yells at him to stop kissing him and then in Arabic yells, “You look. You must look. You drive bad!” — which were not the words he really wanted to use. His scrapes and bruises have gone and he has finally learned much stronger language to use in case something like this happens again.
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