I have many an update and the beginning of an explanation for the bloglessness, but first:

You would think that after living in Egypt for 10 months that naqab (the usually black veil that covers a woman’s face exposing only her eyes) would no longer phase me but it seems my time here has only mystified the idea of Islamic modesty and made my views on the whole concept more convoluted.

The rise of the Islamic chic – women who wear the veil with western clothing, or dawn multi-colored haute couture style veils with varying layers and textures – the concept of hijab alone is one that it changing and complex. Why women weae the veil for me has always been a personal decision, but living in Egypt I realize this is hardly the case in the Arab world… For some women it is a family decision or even a family requirement, for others it is simply a product of habit (“I wear the veil, because... I’ve always worn the veil…just because that’s…what we do”) for others it’s a sense of protection – without the veil they are exposed to the criticism and comments of unfamiliar men. But this last reason doesn’t sit well with me. My former flatmate made a wicked interesting comment: It seemed that she received more catcalls and undesirable comments on the streets when she was – not veiled, of course – but covered up and more or less dressed modestly than the days when she seemed straight off the streets of Brooklyn during June. She attributed this to the “normality” factor of Cairo streets, as if when she appeared like a local, she was therefore game for the harassment, but appearance as a foreigner made her, somewhat unappealing for harassers. Another friend covered street harassment from an anthropological view and noticed several shades of street harassment ranging from complementary to perverted, but in his case he noticed no difference in the women being harassed and their wearing the veild, dressing modestly, or dressing “western”. Personally, having worn a pseuo-veil since I arrived, I can’t find the science of the street folks judgment either.

The most disconcerting observation I’ve made abroad is the image of young girls, maybe seven - sometimes five, running around with finely tucked hijabs. Qur’an and the sunna of Prophet Mohammed suggests that girls wear the hijab after puberty, never earlier than the age of 9. So why? Why - I ask myself - are these small girls wearing the veil when they should be wearing play clothes, running around with their hair in the warm springtime wind being little girls, playing with other little girls and little boys? Some of these girls might not even know how to read yet, let alone understand the religious implications of the attire they are porting from the Qur’an itself. I know women who take the veil after highschool as a personal choice, and that seems to me so much worthwhile, so much more meaningful. I know others who refuse the veil on the basis that it doesn’t fit their understanding of Islam, or at least isn’t essential to it.

It is usually ground-shattering news to my male Egyptian friends when they hear that hijab is actually not required of Muslim women by Islam. It is even more ground-shattering, even to myself, to know that hijab need not even be worn in a mosque unless the wearer intends to pray. Which leads my to another disconcerting observation!

So commonly people criticize people who wear both the veil and make-up as if it is some sort of contradiction. This used to bother me…who cares if a girl wants to wear a veil and some lipstick? But the true contradiction of hijab and make-up as become more apparent to me now. We all know there is a difference between make-up and well… a LOT of make-up. I see veiled women downtown wearing a LOT of make-up: thick concealer, fake eyelashes, layers of lipstick, finely outlined eye brows, and several tones of eye shadow. Let’s take a moment and think about this: Ideally, the reason women wear the veil is so that they are dressed to pray throughout the day (since a woman is only required to cover her hair and other body parts while praying), and before Muslims pray they perform a ritual cleansing called wudu which requires the washing of the face, hands, and feet with water. Are these women washing their faces and reapplying all that make-up several times a day? I can’t believe that …but I won’t jump to conclusions. The point is, I now agree that copious amounts of make-up and the veil is indeed a contradiction. How modest is half an inch of CoverGirl?

Every woman I see wearing a veil, regardless of style, shade, or fashion, is a caricature of a misunderstood faith and an object of complete mystery to me.

Well, it seems that I forsook my blog for a while… I can’t actually explain why, but after a completely uninvited, but nevertheless appreciated, link to my blog from the AU honors newsletter, I figured I should pick up where I left. So here I am again, and I think we were still in early January...

Teachout Trio fi Masr.

Seeing Ancient Rome was pretty cool. Laying over in Athens with the suggestion of ancient Greece not too far away was also cool. But the juxtaposition of seeing Ancient Rome, passing by Ancient Greece, and then touring Ancient Egypt was simply TOO cool. Literally minutes after arriving back to Cairo, I was waiting for a flight to Aswan, happily reunited with my parents. They had spent the last few days soaking up some much needed relaxation (don’t ask me how here in Cairo, perhaps because they hardly wandered outside the Hilton…) and partaking in some classic Cairene tourism. Below is a photo of my mum at the Great Pyramids at Giza. Apparently my mum enjoyed the day trip a bit more than my dad, as she had a camel of her own while he shared his camel with the guide, who as you can imagine was less “freshly-scented” than poor pops would have liked.

Nevertheless, we arrived to Aswan where Mahmoud, a taxi driver Sem arranged for us, delivered us to the jetty where we boarded on Nile Cruise. Before disembarking we ventured Aswan for some breakfast. Ofr course, it wasn’t even 10a, and nothing but ful and tamayya was available. So my parents a crash-course in balady style dinning as we squatted at a hole-in-the-wall ful place and laughed over how my obsessively-sanitary sister would react to the situation.
Our first stop en route up the Nile was the Aswan High Dam and Philae Temple. Ironically, the building of the High Dam flooded Philae Temple along with many other Ancient Monuments. In the 1980’s Philae Temple was de-constructed, transported, and reconstructed 550 meters away on a new island safe and sound above water, but water marks from the period when it was submerged will last forever. It was gorgeous. I discovered my two favorite hieroglyphs early on in the trip. The first is Bes. Bes is depicted as a naked, bow-legged dwarf with his tongue sticking out. He is a household deity of sorts as he represents amusement, pleasure, music, and dance and is considered the protector of children. His presence in the reliefs of many birth ceremonies, suggests he is a god of fertility. My tour guide told me he runs around naked with his tongue out to distract and entertain pregnant women with labor pains. I like that. The other is the source of the While Nile. There is the Blue Nile and the smaller White Nile, and the White Nile starts in a cave where the God depicted below smokes from a pipe and blows white steam into the earth’s crevasses.

Rumor has it the next stop at Kom Ombo was simple spectacular at sunset, but the Teachout Trio started an afternoon nap that didn’t finish until well after other temple-faring tourists had returned. The next day was Etna. While the monuments were great, as expected, the true highlight for me was a stop at an Internet Café (read: Internet Closet) where my mum replied to emails while my dad bargained my wedding price in camels with the owner. The final two days we were in Luxor, the true heart of Ancient Egypt. One temple (Karnak or Luxor, I can't remember) typified the various changes of Egyptian cultural history for me:
The temple itself was unique because each King to reign over it simply added to its architecture, rather than redesigning it in his image, so simply walking deeper into the temple you find Old, Middle, and New Kingdom history unravel before your eyes. However, mid-way through the temple, one finds the remains of a mosque suspended above some of the pillars and statues. This mosque was constructed in at the height of the Islamic Empire in Egypt unbeknownst that it was erected upon ancient ruins. In the deepest part of the Temple, one finds the reliefs change to Alexandrian style with incredible Roman influences, and finally Roman Catholic depictions of the flight of the Holy Family painted over the ancient surfaces. The polytheism of the Ancient Egyptians, the deep and turbulent history of Islam, and the imperialist force of Christendom all within meters of one another.

In Luxor, we also visited the Valley of the Kings, the less visited but brilliantly preserved Valley of the Queens, Hatsheput’s Palace, the Mumification Museum, and two of the oldest statues in Egypt (whose names escape me, wow I am ashamed sorry!). January was an ideal time to visit, because the sun was intense even though it was only in 60s and 70s. We flew from Luxor to Sharm where we were greeted my Mohamemd, an old acquaintance and a guy that radiates Beduoin gentility and strength despite the fact he’s not Bedouin. If my body was transformed into a map of Egypt, the Sinai most surely would be found in place of my heart. I love Dahab more than any other any other kilometer of Egypt that I've seen and being there with my family made it all the more pleasant.

The highlight was diving with my dad, who had just completed his SCUBA certification. Woot woot, Pops. With my dad busy in his PADI course and my better-half at work in Cairo, mum and I were cordially escorted by Mohammed around and about Dahab. We spent a morning at the Lagoon and while it was chilly there wasn't a single person in sight and we had the rocky beach to ourselves. Afterwards, we went off-roading into the mountains and saw... to be continued.

The only excuse for my post-lessness is this: Milan, Florence, Pisa, Roma, Paris, Athens, Cairo, Aswan, Etna, Luxor, Dahab, Amsterdam, LA; all the cities that time has fortunately swept me thru during the past month. So, at last, the begining of an update…

Team Sokar&Shai take on Italia and then some.
Several months ago two imaginative little kids dreamed up an incredible 2-year, round-the-world trek. While international gallivanting is still on the back-burner, Team Sokar and Shai started their stroll around the globe with Italia. When we arrived in Milan I was bombarded with miniskirts and lovely blonde-haired bombshells. I had forgotten just how fashionable people can be! We didn’t stay in Milan for the night, just long enough to catch a glimpse of the Duomo (a requisite for every Italian town, I would discovered a few days later) and enjoy the holiday cheer along the streets. It was exciting to upgrade from the one lame, crooked Christmas tree on the corner of Falaki to a whole country decked out in yuleday jubilee. While walking around by the Duomo there were lots of brightly-colored doors adored with mistletoe set up in the streets with beautiful Italian women clutching Polaroid cameras nearby. We inquired and were gaily informed that kissing in front of doors brings good luck for the New Year and insisted they snap a photo of our smooching. Surprisingly I don’t think we suffered culture shock, but it was interesting to go from walking streets where hand-holding is semi-scandalous to streets where french-kissing is endorsed with holiday cheer. Mini-skirts are to Italy what tea is to Egypt: simple but delicious, and essential to any and every occasion. When we boarded our train to Florence (somewhat miraculously since we missed the train we actually had tickets for) we sat next to this odd, odd Italian guy who was fascinated by English “hanging verbs” (or something like that, he meant verbs like “hang out”, “hold on”, “freak out”, “get over”, etc.) and insisted that every place outside Italia overcooked their pasta. Sem managed to sleep thru this dude’s incessant rambling, but I tired to wake him up for the pasta part, a bit that brought me much pride after months of bagging on soggy macaroni in Cairo.
Next stop was Florence and it is hands-down the most beautiful place I have ever been. It was freezing when we arrived and the streets were almost empty. We snagged an older Italian couple - toasted and cheery, probably heading home from a holiday party – to direct us to our hostel and I was happily reminded that no matter what country, no matter what language, men and women will discuss directions in the same fashion and tone. Hilarious. After a falafel sandwich at some over-priced Turkish deli, a breath-taking glimpse of Duomo #2, and a frigid walk down Via Cavour we found ourselves at San Marco an adorable little hostel where the staff has an average age of about 50 and they speak only a few incomprehensible phrases of English. It was simply perfect. We spent the days sleeping-in (since NOTHING was open over Christmas) and then walking from one picturesque place to the next.
Pisa, a day trip, was much smaller than we imagined but charming nevertheless. It’s ironic that Bonanno Pisano’s architectural mistake has raised thousands of Euros in tourism, but watching every tourist dorkily try to take their photos “holding up” the learning tower (us included) was pretty priceless. While eating lunch at a cute café in Pisa we found ourselves seated next to an old, quirky, absolutely adorable Egyptian couple.
The best way to explain Italia is by what we ate, and in retrospect, I think all we did in Roma was eat. San Peitro was our first official stop in Roma and it was an oddly powerful experience for me. Sometimes I think the Middle East takes religion a bit too seriously, but being pushed around and cut-off by other sightseers in line at San Pietro and watching men grab their scantly clad girlfriends’ asses as they “appreciated the architecture” at the seat of the Papacy made me feel a bit more reverent about religion in the Middle East, at least obsession comprises respect. I thought church after cathedral after basilica would get boring but each one we visited had a certain splendor about it that it never became mundane. Our favorite was…
More impressive than the Trevi Fountain was the massive crowd of people who were visiting the Trevi Fountain! I think the best night of the whole trip might have been the surprise of Piazza Navona. We wandered into what was literally a carnival between old Baroque palaces with street performers, game booths, and puppet shows, and wandered out several kilograms of sweets, two titanic spools of cotton candy, and a huge sugar-covered doughnut later, sugar-high and contented with tears of laughter.
Ancient Rome was cool, too, but I couldn’t fathom what it must have been like during the height of the Roman Empire. I still feel that not having seen Gladiator is a small sin on my part. We spent the day wandering around the Forum and then caught the Colosseum and Pantheon while illuminated at night.
I had imagined Paris would be the most romantic, most ideal place to ring in the New Year but I was very, very mislead. Paris was cold, crowded, and costly. Luckily the company was still good and there were a few beautiful things to check out here and there, heh. More pleasant than anything else was simply being able to understand and be understood, since I’d been existing on an island of mediocre ESL and Arabic for the past few months... One highlight was visiting Disneyland Paris! Disneyland Paris has started a slight compulsion to visit alllll the Disneylands in the world, and Tokyo Disney will without a doubt be on the itinerary for the aforementioned round-the-world tour. Dinseyland Paris was …

After a metro ride to a motor coach to the airport in Paris to Bergamo to a motor coach to Milan, we and our bank accounts were ready to bid Europe adieu, except our flight (a friends’ cargo plane with a pretty price tag and completely unreliable departure information) was detained in Lagos due to severe rain (who knew). After a night sleeping on airport chairs and my parents waiting for me in Cairo (Hi Mom… nope, not quite there yet… ) my tear ducts were on the verge of Niagara Falls-style water works….until a 6 hour lay-over in Athens presented itself and Sokar and Shai added one more local to their first European adventure. :p

We arrived at the New Airport approximately an hour before my parents and mine departure at the Old Airport to Aswan. Our flight arrived at the same time a flight from Jeddah arrived, so at customs, the instinct to pass time in line by holding hands or hugging was brought to a swift halt by the ocean of galabiyya and veils (and the more conservative social views that usually come with them). at the baggage claim.

I gave Sem an impromptu introduction to my parents and said good bye before we dashed off into the airport to catch our flight to Aswan...

Apparently, "preparing the apartment for the arrival of my parents" really meant rearranging the crap piled under my mattress to make it a bit less...well...a bit more... how it's supposed to be.

this is not actual update, for there are many things worth updating about and the inconvienence of final exams to tend to first. but my newest roomate just started this list and it was simply too funny to not post immediately. enjoy.

you know you have adjusted to living in cairo when...
1. you stop converting to US dollars, and therefore find a 25LE meal wicked expensive.
2. all the places that deliver food have you in their database.
3. you stop noticing the heaping piles of garbage on the sides of the street.
4. the Costa Coffee staff knows you name and what you want before you order.
5. you start thinking American cops are puny because they don't have AK47s.
6. you stop being picky about cleanliness of your food and choice of resteraunt.
7. 5LE (1 dollar) seems like an unjustifiable expense for koshary when there is felafel for 50piasters (50cents) on the next corner.
8. you blow your nose and the kleenex is black.
9. you feel like the videogame Frogger while crossing the street.
10. you say "laa" (no) and "iowa" (yes) and "inshaAllah" and "bes" (but) when you are speaking English.
11. you become nonchalant about flies and fruit.
12. young people of different sexes holding hands in the street seems kind of scandelous.
13. rain seems to inhibit life from running normally.
14. you stop being suprised when your "tan" washes off in the shower.
15. you wake up, or are simply alarmed, when cars STOP honking their horns.
16. you start wondering which headscarf would look best on you.
17, you see a dollar in your drawer and think, "what's that?"
18. you're suprised when the sky is blue.
19. you become deeply excited when you find a star or two in the night sky.
20. you want to cover "half-naked" tourists walking down the street.
21. stray cats, bats, beetles, and rats are considered local wild life.
22. you're confused when you walk into a grochery store with aisles.
23. you see a rooftop without trash piled high or impromtu shacks or tons of dusty satelite dishes and wonder what's wrong with the building.
24. you are suprised by freshly-painted, and therefore clean, buildings.
25. you think the US is mean for limiting how many employees can work in any giving business.
26. you see a political protest and wonder why the police haven't arrive yet.
27. you see a political protest of approximately 50 people and aren't suprised to see three times as many police officers.
28. you start recognizing the random people on the street, like men at the makeshift tama3a breakfast stands, the kleenex women, and the other "usual street folk" who share your daily routes.
29. you stop using a watch because the daily calls to prayer let you know what time it is.
30. you're no longer concerned about you're hair falling out.
31. you laugh and ask 'why?' when people tell you not to drink the tap water.
32. you're suprised when electronics work, or a probem is fixed within an hour, or something happens on time.
33. having a bigMac or mochaLatte delivered to your door no longer seems lazy or exotic.

and some personal additions...

34. when "fi aie?" and "aie da?" rolls off your tongue quickly and without thinking if you encounter reckless drivers, tempestuous metro riders, or perverted men on the street.
35. "yanni" finds its way into your daily lexicon.
36. when a problem arises, you scan your cellphone for relevant "contacts"
37. sleeping in on a sunday seems weird.
38. you stop asking what the cost is and just give the the taksi driver or store clerk your money with a pleasant 'ma3salama'
39. waking up before 8a or sleeping before midnight seems absurdly early.
40. the tinyest discrepancy becomes a community controvery or passionate argument.
41. western music is a treat to your ears and makes you feel rebellious.
42. you wonder when you can buy a najar or burqua.
43. people washing "their concrete" no longer seems weird.
44. the phrase "non-smoking section" provokes thoughts like, "impossible - really?"
45. you can bargain the vendors at theKhan down by 100s.

scrutinizing the difference between 'western human interaction' and its arab counterpart has been a trend in my time here, and ruminating about the limited facility to express the whole idea of love in the arabic language has been the hot topic of late. today i encountered the best example. my parents got me a 12-language pocket translator for christmas (thanks!) and while avoiding studying today i was browsing thru the italian phrases for my upcoming adventure. i found one catergory deep in the 'emotions' subcatergory of the 'conversational phases' section called "expressions of love". i continued to scroll past phrases like (i kid you not), "shall we dance together?" "you're eyes are very beautiful", "shall we go to the resteraunt together?", "shall we go to the hotel together?", to "i have never seen a girl as sexy as you" in italian. finding this absolutely hysterical that someone could actually use this little device to get laid while travelling, i switched over to the french mode to test the machine's accuracy. much to my suprise, the phrases translated almost perfectly, save the use of formal pronouns. out of curiousity, i switch to the arabic mode and i found:
"it is really nice to meet you".
one, single, poorly-translated phrase in place of the dozen or so available in the romance languages (perhaps i understand this name better now). hahahahahaah. priceless.

Life (not just for me, but for everyone around me) lately has been like a sinusoidal graph with lots of complicated variables. Everything is making positive progression, but it seems lots of problematic outliers are decorating our domain.

Our flat got broken into and while nothing of importance was taken and there was no genuine risk at hand, it is still uncomfortable to know that our safety was second guessed. Ali and Amanda had an even more alarming encounter in their building and we agree that there is a BIG difference between questionable safety on the streets or while traveling and questionable safety in your own home. In retrospect, the story is kind of funny: One of the roof-dwelling children managed to remove the steel bar on the inside of our kitchen door (how I still have NO idea) and proceeded to take a bottle of Sasha’s perfume and her broken cell phone, and leave a cat in our living room. After several hours of detective-style hypothesizing, the assistance of Mai, our landlord, and Sameh, and several sharp conversations in Arabic that were lost in translation and coated with incompatible social norms, we now have a lovely padlock on our kitchen door and a returned - albeit critical - sense of security.Unfortunately, the mini-robbery ordeal will simply be added to the subconcious collection of antiEgypt thoughts that we pile in the back of our minds.

When I first got to Egypt I met with an AUC friend who studied at AU last year and I asked her to give me advice. She said DEFINITELY stay for a year. Her explaination was that Fall semester students arrive and right when they start to adjust, Ramandan comes and unroots their fragile sense of normalcy, then once they've become accustomed to Ramandan schedule, it ends and they are thrust into a different scedule, and once they readjust to that it seems the stress of midterms final exams and the inevitable homesickness from western hoildays magnifiy moments of helplessness or frustration with Cairo, either based on language or gender or trival details. So, they are stoked to get home and leave Egypt on a bad note. Whereas full-year students follow the same pattern, but have four more months to decipher their frustrations and overcome helplessness, ultimately leaving Egypt with a bit more appreciation to be American but tons of happy memories and plans to return to masr gameela when possible. I thank her now for her advice that has proven to be impeccably true. While we - including myself! - are all irrationally excited for visits home or at least Europe - we will miss our humble cairene abodes and happily return to our quirky little lifestyles in february.

And on a similar tangent of advice... Over tea with Madison in our kitchen the other night, I came up with a brilliantly simple but really rewarding idea. I realized most of the study abroad students have hiLARious stories - some bizzarre, some unbeilivable, some distrubing, some that simply epitomize the 'clash of cultures', and it's a shame to let this stories linger between small groups of friends or hidden in blogs. SO! I am going to create (with the help, inshaallah, of other study abroad folk) an anthropology of anecdotes about living in Cairo. Since I am taking a Creative Writing course (in rebellion of traditional requirements and much to the chagrin of my advisors, i'm sure) i will have time to play with it and it won't be considered procrastination anymore! The chapters thus far include...

upon arrival. hijinks of living in a cairene apartment. traffic and taxis. how many times a week it is possible to eat koshary. getting to Upper Egypt. Khan alKhalili and other misadventures in bargaining. having tits in cairo. Ramadan 101. Lost in translation. you know you miss the US, when... Being Smitten in Egypt. Somewhere between tourist and local. and... Only in Egypt.


Who knows what will come out of it, but I'm stoked.

Annnnd - of course! - there are the impending travel plans that dance along the not-so-far-away horizon. Boast not about tomorrow, for we never know what a day may bring... But, inshaAllah, an adventure to Upper Egypt to the Sinai and then to Alexandria awaits my parents and I, but only after 10 days in Italy and New Year's Eve in Paris with my ro7i gameel! I am too lucky, alhamdulila.

ali: did you just go to the bathroom?
me: yep. there is toilet paper.
ali: awesome
(you know you have grown accustomed to living in cairo when the prescence of toilet paper in public bathroom suprises you slightly, but also brings you joy)

sasha: you know, we've got mohammed at the register and ahmed on the phone and the christian guy in the back trying to find the box...
(one brief moment in a hysterical diatriable about the inefficacy of stores in Cairo, lol)

Ahlan ya December, and the pre-finals blog paralysis that comes with it...

@Costa:
me: why did you chose to study in Cairo?
sash: to study Islam in a traditional environment, ironically.
me: hah. ooh the things we wish for.
sash: yea but this isn't traditional. this is hyperpsychotic gender, race, and class stratification.

@Ali's Image Pharmacy:
man: thilatha wa nus
me: mashy. lazem...bank... (proceed to explain that i'll be right back in broken arabish)
man: (understands but seems confused) mashy.
(several minutes later, i return and hand the man 350 pounds, which is like $60, to which he responded with a huuuuuuge fit of laughter and said)
man: thilatha wa nus. mish thitha mia wa nus!
me: laa-aa!
man: iowa. three and half pounds.
me: fil mish mish!
man: haha, you were going to pay 350 pounds?
me: min amrika, da grali awi...
man: hahaha.... good bye, come again...haha.
me: masalama (feeling like such an idiot)

Last weekend was bliss. I went camping at an eco-friendly, beduoin-style outcove between Nuweiba and Taba in the Gulf of Aqaba called Basata and it was, quite simply, a small peice of paradise on earth. Accomodations at Basata range from little bungalows made of bamboo to mere roofs. We opted for the simplest of pleasures: a tent on the beach. I unzipped my weekend abode on Friday morning to see the Red Sea shining at me only a few meters in the distance. Mmmm....

Before arriving to Basata, Sameh and I went diving in Dahab... the cherished Canyon and Bell's Blue Hole again. At Basata, we danced between naps on the beach and experimental cooking, took a quick climb up cliff and simply enjoyed the passing of time. And it's always comforting to be in a new place with someone who makes you feel so entirely yourself...

While I haven't seen the entirety of Egypt yet, and may never see all of it, I think she may be the most beautiful country in the world. The desert is infinitely alluring to me. There is something so classic and beautiful, yet harsh and unforgiving about it. The landscape at Basata and Dahab always empitomizes what I think of when I hear the word Bedoin: ruggedly beautiful and tranquil in its boldness. Last night Ali, Amanda, 3ly, and Mohammad and I went hourseback riding near the pryamids and Ali and I searched for words to express the timelessness of the Sahara. It's imposssible to capture the beauty of the desert at night with a camera, so I hardly have any photos, but something about the moonlight shining down on an endless tide of sundunes and the echo of horsehoves puts a little bit of peace in my soul, hehe. If I am destined to have a mid-life crisis, I think the resolution of it will be found somewhere between Egypt and Libya on a journey into the desert...

Every time I go to teach in Mar Girgis on Monday nights, I revel in nostalgia for the civility of the DC metro. One day I want to identify the source of the unspoken agreement that exists between metro patrons in American cities that people get off the train before the people on the platform get on the train. Unlike the harmonious “doors open, passengers disembark, passengers board, doors chime and then usually close” scenario I’m used to, the Cairo metro experience is far more chaotic: As the train draws near the crowd of women waiting for the all-women’s car (sidenote: this is an option, not a requirement, and I choose to take it for humor rather comfort because the co-ed-a.k.a-male-dominated cars are actually more bearable but they smell bad) begin pushing towards the approaching doors. During the brief moment when the train is stopped but the doors have not yet opened, the women inside the car show faces of determination and the women on the platform squeeze as close as possible to the glass with equally resolute expressions. When the doors open each huddled mass pushes in the direction of their desire with equal force, allowing only a lucky few on the fringes to sneak through towards the edge of the door. After a moment of stagnation, the momentum of the crowd exiting seems to triumph for a moment, but their space is instantly usurped by the crowd entering. Once I actually closed my eyes while getting on the metro (out of frustration with the various women pushing and proding me) and this method has proven to be the easiest and least painful for boarding.

Today during this dance I witnessed what was perhaps the cross-cultural highlight of my experiences abroad thus far….

A tall, elderly British woman was being cordially escorted (read: pushed helplessly through the doors) by the crowd into the already full car and after a few huffs and puffs calmly but loudly cried, “Stop pushing madam!” towards a particularly aggressive Egyptian woman. This woman, who had a full shopping bag on her head, took this as an opportunity to push the British woman intentionally. In reaction, the ladyBrit uttered, “Ugh! You are preposterous!” and dusted the other woman’s apparently uncivilized touch from her shirt. The shopping-bag-crowned women gave her another light push and then preceeded farther into the car, shouting “hiya magnooona, wallahy!” as she disappeared into the mass of scarves. I stood there sipping my coffee to hide the enormous grin across my face. What was weird was that this poor British woman seemed to radiate a need for empathy or at least a need for some sort of confirmation that she was not actually crazy…But I couldn’t give it to her. When her frazzled glance passed over me, she saw nothing but another metro-bitch.
I felt in this moment so invisible it was almost nice.

Of course, every positive situation has its negative counterpart in the karmic realm, and before arriving to the platform I got my share of cultural frustration. I approached the ticket window to tuck my dirty 1 pound bill into the tray and mouthed a polite ‘ahlan’ to the ticket vender. This gesture of recognition gives me a way as a foreigner every time as most people don’t even make eye contact with the cranky ticket guy as they cram their piasters under the glass. Nevertheless, I continue to do it with hopes that it might in some insignificant way make the cairo metro a more pleasant place. Tonite my naive courtesy was met with this slime-of-the-earth-ticket-guy looking up from his little pile of tickets to toy with the foolish tourist: he held the ticket up, as if questioning my intention for giving him the money, I raised my eyebrows and nodded slightly thinking no duh, jerk. He then placed the ticket near the finger-print-marked glass and waited for me to reach for it like a mindless animal. I humored him and added another finger print to the glass. He laughed and then placed the ticket into the tray. As I took the ticket he continued to hold it as if I was a dog pulling at a chew toy. I looked daggers at him and whispered “Fi ay?” His bewilderment with my surprisingly-local reaction forced him to let go of the ticket and I walked towards the platform brewing up a little storm in my mind… You win some, you lose some.