How to Cross a Street in Egypt

My first introduction to Egyptian traffic went something like this: put about 20 bewildered and jetlagged Americans on a taped-together bus, drive about 80 kph along narrow streets and through seemingly chaotic traffic circles to blaring Arab pop music until AUC is in sight, and then grind to a halt. Watch and laugh as they attempt to navigate a street with no crosswalk where the cars don't stop. Chuckle at the (hopefully) 20 flustered and hyperventilating Americans on the other side. In Egypt, red lights are mere suggestions and lane markers are completely ignored. It will take some getting used to.

Another mere suggestion, apparently, was the location of our information session sent to us via email. While the brochure said once place, the email said another, which resulted in about 50 lost international students (including myself and friends) wandering around a performing arts center for 45 minutes, eventually finding ourselves somehow backstage, being told by at least three officials that the meeting was on the 3rd, 2nd or 4th floor, and then getting a phone call saying that it was across campus. Huh. "Maybe this IS the orientation session," one kid quipped. Orientation indeed.

We made it back to the right building. Sarah and I found the sign up sheet for course advising before the horde did. So, on the advice from our Georgetown Study Abroad coordinator, we signed up for advising on Monday so that we could get the best classes. Good idea, right?

Didn't learn much in the information session, except for that all students who had previously studied Arabic had to sign up for Tuesday or later, because we had to wait for the results of our Arabic placement test today. Okay, fine, we'd go back and change it to Tuesday. But when we got down there, the line was out the door, and we were going to be late for our placement exam, so we followed the masses to the Mariott room to take our exam.

I don't know what went wrong, but the room filled up faster than expected and about half of us got shut out. We'd have to take the exam on Tuesday, pushing our advising to Wednesday. But when we went back to the sheet of paper, everything up to Friday was filled. We grabbed some Saturday slots, resigned ourselves to a terrible schedule, and decided to find a bank and get some food.

This is where it gets weird.

Characters: Me, Sarah, Hafsa, Alyiah, Eric, Jacob.

Scene: A busy street in Cairo, much like the one pictured, except busier. With more potential death.

We're wandering around, trying to find somewhere that appears semi-sanitary for lunch. Like aforementioned, cars don't really stop for you at crosswalks, and the stream of traffic is almost constant. For an American, who's used to traffic lights, crosswalk signals and a safe passage from one side of the street to the other, Cairo leaves a lot to be desired.

So we're all huddled on one side of a busy street, trying to figure out how to get across it, when I hear an Egyptian man talking to Hafsa. "You just have to go!" he says, "Just go! And they'll go around you. Slowly, like an Egyptian. Casual! Just go."

Just go, huh? So we did. We strolled. And lo and behold, the cars just kind of parted, slowed, sped up, did whatever was necessary to avoid us.

On the other side of the street, the man starts talking to us. He tells us more about crossing streets in Egypt: don't look like a tourist, don't use the crosswalks, walk in a horizontal line. He's speaking to us in pretty good English, and we naturally respond in English, but we throw in a little Arabic once in awhile. He's impressed. He gives us a big Welcome to Egypt speech, and asks us about our studies, where we're from, all that good stuff. We ask him where to eat lunch around here, and where to exchange money, and he offers to take us. Out of the kindness of his heart? Hmm. But, good enough.

His name is Ali, and he cautions us to avoid exchanging money at banks because they charge lower rates. Instead, he asks if we would rather go to the Egyptian exchange center, which gives a better rate of exchange. Sure we do. So the few people who needed to do some banking went and did their thing, while Jacob, Eric and I talked to Ali about the town where he lived, Giza. This would come to later be a theme of our day.

Ali then took us to a Egyptian pizza place, where the food wasn't that bad. He told us, in oddly colloquial English about his "better half" and their quest for a boy (5 girls, then one son alhumdulilah). He gave us his opinion on the United States, Middle Eastern politics, and Egypt. And then he waxed eloquent on Giza, the Pyramids, and the best way to see them: at sunset, the Egyptian way, on a cloudless day. Much like today, he noticed. He was going that way anyway. He explained to us that after September 11th, the Egyptian government had built a security fence around the Pyramids, dividing it into two sections. There was the front side, that had the Pizza Huts, the tour buses, and the electric light show. He would escort us to Giza, he said, and get us in the second, almost unknown gate to the Pyramids.

Like, today? Like, right now? We all kind of looked at each other. Sarah was in a skirt. Hafsa was in sandals. I didn't have my camera. "I will negotiate an Egyptian price for your cab ride out there. You will want that. And it is so beautiful today." I looked at Eric. Eric looked at Jacob. Jacob looked out the window.

Just go.

So we did. As Ali was hailing and haggling a taxi, Sarah turned to me: "This is either the best idea ever or the worst idea ever." No kidding. But carpe diem, and off we went, six of us plus Ali in a station wagon-cum-taxi, driving out of Cairo to Giza.
Along the way, Ali taught us some colloquial Egyptian. One of the more memorable phrases was Sharookh, literally meaning "rocket" but used, as Ali described, to mean "I wouldn't kick her out of bed." Nancy Ajram, an Arab songstress, is sharookh. I was, according to Ali, farash, a variation on the theme. I don't know where this guy got his English, but he had an interesting working knowledge of English slang.

The taxi driver pulled over on the highway so we could get our first view of the Pyramids. "This shows you both sides of Egypt," Ali intoned, as Alyiah and Hafsa (the only two with cameras) snapped pictures. "Green, farms, agriculture--the heart of Egyptian life--and old Egypt, the Pyramids." We drove on.

The taxi drove through the lightly flooded streets of Giza, past local stands selling carrots arranged like cactii, and dropped us all off in front of a horse and camel stable down a side alley. The price was 35 pounds, which is about 7 US dollars for a half hour cab ride. I could get used to prices like this.

Ali introduced us to Mahmoud, who owned the stables. He immediately brought us mint tea, and sat down to chat with us before discussing prices. The Egyptians like a little tea with their sugar; it tasted like honey melted to a thin liquid with a hint of mint. Delicious, of course, but I could feel my teeth crying. As we drank the tea, we talked about Nancy Ajram. Ali told him I was farash, and Mahmoud smiled and nodded.

Down to prices. There were three options: the small, medium and large tour. The large tour let us go inside a pyramid, and was about USD$50 with student ID. After a quick conference, we decided that this really was a once in a lifetime deal, and we should shell out the money. To Americans, 50 bucks for a five hour tour of the Pyramids probably doesn't seem like much, but remember the prices here. We knew we were going to get a lot for our money, if all went according to plan. He asked us if we wanted horses or camels. If we were going to do this tourist thing right, it had to be camels. He smiled.

We all paid him. Then it was Ali's turn. We didn't think he would do this for nothing, but he pretended like he would. "Now, I go home to my family," he said, after a long speech about the beauty of Egypt and its warmth. "I must go to the marketplace to buy some fruit for my family, since I have kept them waiting so long." We knew what was expected of us, and gave him some US dollars "for his children." We were fully aware that he probably didn't have six children, and they didn't want any fruit, but he provided us a service and it was the least we could do.

Then, Sarah was given a pair of Adidas track pants to don instead of her skirt, as riding a camel sidesaddle didn't seem pratical. We exited his office, and found six camels waiting for us.

As soon as I got on mine, she decided it was a really good time to stand up in a frenzy, even though all the other camels were nicely sitting in line. It's a really, really long way up. Like a horse, but about six feet taller.

Once everyone else's camels had gently and politely stood up on command, we set out. We shouted a goodbye to Ali, shukrun wa ma'asalaam ya Ali! You can barely see it in the picture, but look at the far left of the picture. There's a gap in the wall, and that is the second entrance to the Great Pyramids at Giza. It's guarded by police with some type of semi-automatic assault rifles, and a chain which they kindly removed for our caravan. Mahmoud chose a horse to ride, and another man who took the lead, a white donkey.

Slowly, ploddingly, the camels took us out into the Sahara. To our right, the city of Giza and in the distance Cairo, and the Pyramids. To the left, sand. Dunes, hills, valleys, all of sand.

It still hadn't really set in. We were on camels. At the Pyramids. In Egypt. And we were walking farther into the desert. Soon, the tops of the Pyramids dipped out of sight behind a sand dune. Before us, the Sahara.

We talked about it as we rode along. It took hundreds of thousands of of men hundreds of years to create these temples. Each block weighed at least two and a half tons. "Men died for this," Hafsa said, as the Great Pyramids were finally out of sight. "I haven't even really grasped what we're doing yet."

We were now headed towards the middle of nowhere. Slowly all of us started to realize that we were drifting away from our destination. Jacob turned around to say something to me, when I caught a flash of motion to my right. I turned to look, and saw a man in a dark blue tunic riding a camel directly towards us. In his hands was an assault rifle. So, I thought. This is it. At least it's one hell of a way to go.



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I have to stop here because I'm getting up early tomorrow to go to a desert oasis out in the middle of nowhere, Egypt. We're catching a bus that takes us from town to town, and staying in a cheap hotel in the city. The oasis has hot springs. My life will be complete if this really all works out.

Blogger has been a bit picky lately, and decided to post this about 3/4 of the way through. Sorry guys.

I'll finish the story (with more pictures!) when I return on Saturday. Take care y'all. :)