Beginnings

As a general policy, I try to avoid subjecting readers to fluff and cheese. I find that sarcasm, in addition to being the dominant tool of humor for my generation, makes me sound cynical and therefore intelligent. So you’ll have to forgive me this somewhat sincere introduction to what I hope to be a fruitful, if inadequate, account of experiences and thoughts had while living in Cairo on a year-long study abroad program. My guiding principle for the blog is Horatian: while your entertainment is foremost in my mind, I also hope to shed some light on my experience as an outsider in a culture which can often seem unbearably foreign. A culture which I have come to love and appreciate through the lens of language, that first and last bastion of understanding and respect across continents and civilizations. By investing time and effort into unlocking the treasure troves of Arabic—which in its consolidated, standardized form makes reading classical texts from 1500 years ago possible without years of university study—I feel a kinship with Egyptians in a way that would be impossible without such struggle on my behalf. Would that all young people were fortunate enough to inherit an early vision of the importance of foreign language learning and its role in dissolving barriers between cultures and peoples.
On to the tale. My luggage and I arrived unbroken but somewhat shaken at 2:00AM on a balmy Sunday morning in one of the world’s oldest and grandest cities. After exchanging currency and haggling with cabbies, I found myself in a rooftop hostel on the seventh floor of a building that, for lack of a better mental image, recalled for me the Tower of Terror ride at Disneyworld. Creaky fire escapes and a guillotine-esque elevator led upward to Dahab Hostel, which is a steal at 35 LE (Egyptian pounds) a night. I made my home there for the next three days while I waited for my future roommate to arrive in Cairo so that we could secure an apartment together. As anyone who has ever stayed in a hostel knows, fast friendships are made; I suppose the drifter lifestyle lends itself to an openness to humanity which less nomadic routines seem to lack. So I ended up feeling right at home and having several people to explore the city with. My roommate came in Wednesday, and we sealed the deal on a two-bedroom flat right in downtown Cairo, which we had arranged by word of mouth prior to our arrival. For me, the process of finding housing and securing it entirely by informal needs is a microcosm of life in Egypt: a legendary and stultifying bureaucracy in this country has led to underground networks and word-of-mouth communities being spawned and nurtured by a populace frustrated with more formal channels.
I’ve enjoyed having a week of relative freedom to explore the city and familiarize myself with practical information, such as where to find the best falafel pitas for the cheapest price, before beginning intensive Arabic study next week. One of the week’s highlights involved making the trek to Cairo University in an attempt to watch President Obama deliver a speech which many people hope to represent the beginning of a new era in U.S. foreign relations. After camping out for almost three hours in the hot sun, I, my roommate, and two friends from the hostel were shooed away from a main entrance by soldiers, who then forcibly removed a group of protesters calling for Obama to help end the siege in Gaza by allowing the Hamas movement a seat at the negotiating table. Luckily, we had made friends with a photographer from Reuters, who drove us to an air-conditioned, westernized café and forced us to have delicious food on his dime as we watched Obama’s speech on television. My life is so terrible.
That’s all for now, folks. More next week as we explore topics such as: visiting the pyramids, or how to keep sand out of your eyes; being Mormon in Cairo, or why I’m glad I don’t live in an upper-class bubble of American culture in Egypt; and the start of classes at American University in Cairo. Until then, I am yours,
K