Egypt Day 29, 30

Yesterday, a few friends went home with me, and we then set out for "Islamic Cairo", the old district of the city that includes Khan El-Khalili, the city's most famous souk. Although my family had mentioned to me before the entrance to the old city was just 5 minutes away, I had yet to go there. We spent perhaps 3 quarters of an hour wandering my neighborhood, trying in vain to follow first my host mom's, and then various passersby's, directions. Eventually, we wound up on a avenue I had been on many times before, where my brother had taken me to try all the different local drinks my very first night. Having finally procured clear directions from one of the employees there, we walked just a block down from the drink shop and, turning a corner, I was struck speechless. A medieval wall ran along the street for what seemed like a mile or more. I had never noticed it before.

We walked along the wall for several blocks before we found, as promised, the door to the old city. It was like something out of a movie, a massive gate flanked by guard towers. We stepped through the portal into an existence almost divorced from the reality of the modern city. There, the honking and screeching of tires that had long since become background noise to me was shockinly absent. Barely any cars raced down the cobblestone streets. No tower blocks blotted out the sun from the street. A thousand years on, the minarets of the mosques still stood unchallenged as the tallest structures around. The mosques they are attached to are national treasures (and labled as such), with some of the most ornate stonework I have ever seen. They could certainly give the great gothic cathedrals of Europe, their closest contemporaries, a run for their money in architectural magnificence.

From the leafy palms trees that lined the street, to the shops shuttered against the afternoon sun, the district radiated a feeling of calm that is hardly present in most of the other places I've been to here. One of my favorite places was a house open to the public we sort of stumbled upon by chance. It was so low-key we weren't entirely sure we were allowed in. Behind its tall, vaulted entranceway was, typical to old houses in the region, an interior courtyard. I had seen something similar in Spain but had yet to experience it here. The brilliance of the idea is immediate. Hidden away from the dust and bustle of the street, the garden forms a miniature oasis of green, calm and peace. It's no wonder we lingered there for quite some time.

As we went further into the neighborhood, we got closer to the tourist-swamped allys of Khan El-Khalili. This presented a perfect opportunity for souvineer shopping, something our host families had adamantly warned against as we would be charged double as foreigners. I wound up buying only one or two things, knowing I'd be back in the coming days. I bargained hard, or at least what I considered bargaining hard. It's part of the entertainment, this false facade, convincing Western tourists they somehow managed to fight this citiy's famously wily businesspeople to a draw, a boastful story they can take home.

It's bullshit, of course. I'm sure if I told my host family what I paid for my items they'd be outraged (Egyptians cannot stand being overcharged, even sums that in American terms are laughably small). And the matter of the different prices for Egyptians and non-Egyptians...that's a matter I've been discussing quite a bit recently with my American friends here. Some of them find it outrageous. I'm of two minds on the matter. Rationally, I can understand justifying it. It can be argued it's the way people here try to make up for the fact they've been getting the short end of the stick at the hands of Western powers for 200 years. A few pounds of overcharging tourists could never, in a millenium, come close to the value of the socioeconomic injustices suffered by the people of the developing world at the hands of the developed. Yet, at the same time, when you're the one being overcharged, well, that tends to overshadow any justifications you tell your bleeding-heart liberal self.

The same logic applies, I suppose, to the frequent request one gets for money, often for the simplest tasks. At the citadel the other day, for example, an offer to show us a great view of the castle, accesible through a door in the citadel wall, turned into a bit of an uncomfortable situation. When we finished taking our pictures, the man enquired, with an outstretched hand "money?"He was blocking the door. I gave him a few pounds and he showed us back. We weren't in any danger, of course-one of our friends had stayed out on the otherside anyway, waiting for us. Our guide was really just a harmless old man. We did get some pictures from a perspective we never would have been able to get on our own. Yet still, these requests, so inapproapriate by western standards, can be a little jarring.

Today, as we reached the one-month mark of our stay here, we assembled bright and early in the morning at the main government office building downtown to get our visas extended. It proved to be a perfect lesson in the patience and flexibility (especially with time) needed to operate in this society. We were asked to arrive at 7. The Egyptian volunteers who were to help us with the process arrived at 8. We were supposed to have the entire process completed by 11, so that we could go to school and begin class at 12. Instead, we only finished and had our passports handed back after 1. My form, which I wrote in red ink, got canceled and had to be rewritten, so I had to wait even longer. Mercifully, classes were declared canceled and we had the rest of the day off.

This kind of thing probably would have bugged me more a mere month ago. But I think my brief time here has changed me. I've adapted to how things work here. I feel I'm more laid back, more accepting of curveballs that come my way, less resistant to changes to the plan. I leave here in two all-too-short weeks but, I have no doubt, I'll be taking back more than postcards and scarabs.