Rachael trying sheesha
Rachael bleh!ing sheeshaIt’s been a roller coaster of a return back to Cairo life. I haven’t written in a month and a half, not because I couldn’t find the time, but I was awaiting the peace of mind or positivity with which to highlight recent events…
~ booking bus tickets across Egypt (One bus ran off the road and for an hour I nervously clawed at the buzzing Arabic around me to find out how long we’d be left in the desert in the middle of the night; fortunately the driver and all the suddenly-professional mechanical passengers assessed that the bus was fit to run, and we made the remaining three hours back to Cairo with no complications but a jarred front door through which sandy wind could blast me in the face)…
~ finding a tarantula clinging vertically to my roommate Noelle’s towel on the back of the bathroom door; squealing and immobile with laughter, revulsion and panic, we (read: I) unhooked the towel and dropped it into a box, an effort Noelle contributed to by afterward suggesting we tape the box up like a package, which we then addressed to our other roommate John and put in front of his bedroom door. The next day my friend Aymeric suggested the tarantula is pregnant; instead of dying in the box she may be plotting revenge by having a batch of 500 hairy brown successors. Nearly wretching I watched my determined friend Yasser unwrap our ‘package’ and kill the scurrying spider on the stairs of our apartment building. I still shudder when I reach for my towel or even (bleh!) bedsheets.
Rachael’s two-and-a-half week visit in February was an incredible means of settling back into Cairo after a month at home in the States. I could commentate every minute detail of my daily life in Egypt – which I do inside my head anyway, but this time someone was there to listen! I love this chaotic city so much, but it’s hard to bottle up why. Somehow Rachael seemed to catch onto the infatuation too, as we embraced the city’s cafes and parks (make that “park”, singular), frequented its quirky old bars and restaurants, toured ancient Islamic and Christian districts, bonded with local shopkeepers, strolled Alexandria’s Mediterranean shore and dined on its seafood, and snorkeled and danced the nights away in Dahab on the Red Sea. We even went to a cabaret, a shocking underworld of wealthy Arabs stepping on stage and throwing stacks of five-pound notes theatrically over the heads of robed male musicians, a talented belly dancer, and what seemed to be the resident prostitutes (who looked more like clowns from up close in the women’s bathroom). We left at 6 am, which was early compared to all the thirsty-looking men we left behind. After having a constant dance partner, cuddle buddy, dear friend from countless American and Australian adventures, it was hard to let Rachael go.
Once Rachael left, I was faced with the horrifying task of booking my own transportation to a few towns in southern Egypt (called Upper Egypt because of the northward flow of the Nile) where I was to give a workshop to teenage Egyptian students as part of a two-year USAID-funded English language program called ACCESS. My friend and savior Yasser came with me to the train station, located the various obscure ticket windows for travel to Upper Egypt, darted back and forth between lines as the window attendants pointed us inevitably away from themselves, and finally booked…one ticket. The following hours of nightfall were spent visiting Cairo’s bus stations to beg for tickets that would meet my workshop schedule. As capable as I try to be when faced with new challenges in Egypt, I truly don’t know how I would have gotten those tickets without Yasser’s savvy.
All the stress was worth it. My first workshop in Assiut was a blast. Five hours after leaving Cairo, I landed at the Assiut bus station in time to wander toward the Nile and catch a glimpse of fishing and sailboats silhouetted against the sunrise. To my shock, the early-morning quiet of the town didn’t vanish once its residents awoke. I reveled in Assiut’s thrashing of dichotomies I’d viewed as absolute because of Cairo; Assiut was busy yet hushed, quaint yet spacious for its number of residents and cars, lightly layered with sand yet beautifully painted and muraled, homogeneous yet politely blasé toward foreigners. Surrounded by Nile-basin farmland, Assiut is conservative, has the largest ratio of Christians to Muslims in Egypt and holds the country’s oldest Christian churches and some of its oldest mosques. For my one-day visit, most of the charm was held in the kindness and openness of the teachers and students who received me. My workshop topic was air and water pollution, and the students were enthusiastic and creative throughout the activities and discussions. Truth be told I’d been terrified of leading classrooms full of teenagers for a few hours, but they were so bright and sweet that I was left feeling amazed and blessed just to have met them. The following workshop in Fayoum, an oasis near Cairo, was just as rewarding. I stayed an extra day and my roommates came to tour Fayoum’s salt lake, lush farms and a valley in the desert that still has whale bones from when the Mediterranean Sea covered northern Egypt. I have 5 more workshops and I can't wait to see what other towns in Upper Egypt look like.
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