Friday, June 1, 2007

Ma’ salaama ya Masr

Finals are, in the Egyptian lexicon, khalas.

My seventeen page paper on the Iraqi insurgency has been submitted. I pulled an almost-all-nighter studying over 700 vocabulary words for my Media Arabic final, to find that none of them were on the exam. I found out that they do, indeed, give Fs, Ds and a lot of Cs here to the dismay of many of my classmates, so I should be happy with a B in Arabic. I finished my Colloquial oral final in a sleep-deprived daze. I managed to write something coherent about existentialism, the human condition, and Waiting for Godot. I'm done.

In celebration, MaryClaire, Olan, Zach, Zach's amoeba Hosni and I went to Dahab for the weekend. It was worth the nine hour bus ride there and back to lie on the beach, sleep in the sun and consume copious amounts of the infamous Dahab thick shakes (mixed flavored milkshakes which quickly degenerated into fountain glasses overflowing with ice cream).

That was last weekend, and we've been filling our time ever since. Dinners at the Nile-side Sequoia, the only legitimate place in the city to get sushi. Trips to Khan el-Khalili to get those last-minute souvenirs. Stopping by your favorite fresh juice stand for your last strawberry banana concoction. Trying to squeeze in all the places in Cairo you haven't seen yet, like the Egyptian Museum—where because you're white you pay 25 times more than your friend to see a bunch of unlabeled exhibits in an un-air conditioned building on a 100 degree day—or al-Azhar Park, which offers an incredibly well-manicured view of Cairo until a sandstorm blows in. People are starting to trickle out now as the summer residents move in; the dorms are filled with massive suitcases and long goodbyes. There seems to be nothing left to do, and as we wait for our plane flights we simply hang, stuck in between our semester and our summer, between continents and worlds.

I packed yesterday. Another mental box checked, and I'm almost there: my flight leaves 24 hours from now. But I mentally checked out long ago. I've lost whatever remaining patience I had for the city: I'm yelling back at the men on the street, and the waiters' repetitive pantomimed jokes about stealing my wallet are no longer funny. There was almost a homicide on campus yesterday, when the man installing AUC's free licensed copy of Symantec Antivirus on my computer did a forced shut down and then told me my computer was "clearly infected" because it was slow to restart. I'm ready to leave Egypt and not look back.

But.

As the hours count down, I'm starting to realize the degree to which I will actually miss this place once I'm home. And thus, in my final blog post, I bring you an honest summarization of my time here.

In Notoriety:

Above all, the men: being groped, grabbed, followed, hissed at and hollered at in the street. Ya a'sl, ya ishta! The lascivious stares. 300 missed calls in one day from a random stalker. Play with me on the phone for five minutes. The pollution. AUC students who think copying and pasting from Wikipedia is a legitimate way to write a paper. Professors who agree. The lack of healthy food. Closing the gym on a whim. The Egyptian concept of time. Bukra, insha'Allah. "Smack That" by Akon on perpetual repeat. The bureaucracy of AUC. Running on treadmills out of necessity. The dorms: the constant bag searches, the ridiculous visitor policies, the gender segregation. What constitutes acceptable hygiene. Everything that is "forbidden." The perpetual lack of toilet paper anywhere you go, be it a four star resort, on campus or in your own dorm. Washing machines that leave your clothes dirtier than before. The constitutional amendments, voter apathy, and the fact that AUC students care more about their student government than their national government.

In Nostalgia:

Five pounds for a fifteen minute cab ride from the dorms to campus. The comradery of the dorms. The procrastination of the study room. Sitting down in the cafeteria and inevitably being joined by someone you know. Fresh fruit juice from the stand next to Horryea for two pounds. 24-hour Metro Supermarket within walking distance. The sushi at Sequoia. Meeting new friends and branching out. How every restaurant delivers, and it's cheaper and faster than going to the actual establishment. Siwa. Learning to love the pace: hanging out, doing nothing, chilling between classes. How the noxious fast food restaurants of the US are actually palatable here. Two pound Coke Lights and my subsequent addiction. Fruit cups on Greek Campus before Creative Writing class. Music dialogues. Going somewhere amazing almost every weekend. The exchange rate. The West Point boys who embraced their relative freedom and made me appreciate mine. Paying too much for imported American food but doing it anyway. Incorporating Egyptian colloquial into my everyday English vocabulary. The 5 kg jug of Nutella (which is almost gone). Nip/Tuck viewings with MaryClaire and Max. Pub 28 nights. Mango the perpetually pregnant dorm cat. 6 pound pasta from Dido's, and their Caprese Salad. 50 piaster fateer. Henna. Sleepovers with the girls, spooning and late night talks that made everything okay.


I Will Never, Ever Understand:

  • Why on every overnight bus they insist on playing a screeching, ear-shattering movie at full volume while leaving the lights on.
  • How a country with a service industry almost as large as its military cannot keep bathrooms stocked with toilet paper.
  • How no establishment has change for anything larger than a 20 pound note.
  • The pervasive social immaturity.
  • The mutanezahin, the "strollers," the Egyptian girls who would use one of the two treadmills to slowly walk for ten minutes while the rest of us waited to run, or the man on staff who was paid to sit at a desk but would use the other treadmill so we couldn't.
  • The socially acceptable nature of verbal harassment, and how a country that is so heavily reliant on the tourism industry can't figure out that harassing women tourists is not the path to wealth.
  • Why wealthy, young Egyptians believe that showering less than once a week is acceptable, and how washing their feet in the bathroom sinks is a good stop-gap measure.
  • How the girls on my floor treat our cleaning staff (e.g. leaving piles of food on any horizontal surface).
  • The tunnel vision with which the average Egyptian views his or her job (i.e. if a task is not explicitly within the scope of his job, he will not do it). E.g. the obsession with bag checks and metal detectors, paired with the fact that the metal detectors are never turned on and the searches are cursory at best. The security guard views his job as to direct us to display our bags, but the rationale behind the search is lacking.
  • The apathy with which Egyptians treat their current situation. This is commonly described as laziness (e.g. men spending their days sitting outside drinking tea, truckloads of soldiers sleeping at every corner). I believe it is instead a deadly mix of a slow culture, a poor educational system and an unfortunate belief that some things are deserved or owed that creates a stultifying social stagnation. An oppressive political environment doesn't help, but the idea of creating your own destiny seems lost here. The resultant lack of civil society or social promulgation is crippling Egypt in the 21st century.
  • The pervasive belief that using headlights is unnecessary or wastes batteries, or that headlights are for communication purposes only. Kind of like the horn.

I had some goals at the beginning of the semester.

  • Improve My Arabic: Done. I learned a lot of vocabulary from my Media class; I can actually open up BBC Arabic and have half an idea what's going on. I can read Arabic without a second thought. And I've come away much more confident in my speaking abilities, which were sorely lacking. Proud moments were haggling for 15 minutes over scarves in the Khan completely in Arabic and navigating the insane Cairo airport to pick up my parents.
  • Explore: Done. Three continents, five countries and two time zones under my belt. I didn't see some of Egypt's famous sites: Luxor, Aswan, the Citadel or the Black and White Desert. But I am happy with what I did see: Siwa, Alexandria, Ain Sukhna, Dahab, Hurghada, the bottom of the Red Sea, Barcelona, Tarragona, Rome, Naples, Pompeii, Marseilles, Aix-en-Provence, Taba, Eliat, Jerusalem, Ramallah, Jericho, and Bethlehem. I learned how I travel and how I deal with contingencies. Tried a bunch of new foods. Spent a lot of time by myself. Spent a lot of time with others. Successfully lived in a third world country for five months. Learned that I can be independent, but I cherish the support and love of my friends. Realized how much I miss Oregon, the people there, and the lifestyle.
  • Take a break: Done. As he put me on a plane in Portland, my father gave me two pieces of advice: don't go to Gaza, and take it easy on the academics. I did both. While AUC wasn't a challenge academically for the most part, I allowed myself to focus more on travel and communion with friends than on studying and grades. Perhaps I could have pulled off an A in that Media class—although I highly doubt it, given the prior experience of those individuals who did receive As—but I chose to go scuba diving the weekend before an exam instead. And I'm okay with that. I read for pleasure: American Gods, Into Thin Air, On the Road and Cobra II. I also studied existentialist and modernist literature, and came away with both some philosophical enlightenment about the way I want to live my life and a renewed passion for reading. I also wrote creatively for the first time since junior year of high school, and found inspiration when I thought it had left me.
  • Start training for a fall marathon: In progress. My physical endeavors did not go as well as I had hoped; being forced to run on a treadmill aggravated my stress fractures and I was forced to take it a lot slower than I had expected. However, I did make significant progress in the distance I am able to run without pain; I hope to continue gaining ground this summer. A fall marathon is probably out of the question if things continue as they are, but I'm committed to continuing my training. But my time in the gym was one of my highlights here: the regular crew of about 10 Americans in the dorm gym became fast friends.
  • Remember everything I see and write it down: Done. I think this blog is good evidence of that.

I took time to think, which sounds dumb, but it's something I've neglected. I've learned a lot here in Egypt: about Arab culture, about how the US is perceived in the region. About my political beliefs, about what I want in life in the short term and in the long term. And the cliché: about myself. I've come away with a greater appreciation of America, of our culture, our values and our constitution. I have rekindled my spirit of adventure and love of travel. I've come to some philosophical conclusions which I hope can guide me through the end of my college career. I've come to hold a greater appreciation for time spent with friends and the value of the present. It hasn't been a cake walk; some of the times here were trying, frustrating, angering. But I made it through, and I could do it again:

To strive, to seek, to find and not to yield.


Thanks for reading and commenting; I wouldn't and couldn't have done it without you. It's been fun.


10 comments:

Anonymous said...

Bissalama, Kari.

Have a safe journey home.

Anonymous said...

So much for "Life in the Slow Lane." See you at the airport with your US cell phone and the keys to your car!

Welcome Home!

Anonymous said...

Have a safe trip and welcome back to the land of the free!

Aunt Casey

Anonymous said...

Let your repatriation begin!

bint_ibnbattuta said...

aba.

and not to yield.

what would i have done without you?

Marisa said...

Thanks for sharing with us. Your captivating accounts of all your adventures made it feel like you weren't so far away. :) So glad you're coming home and can't wait to see you!

Anonymous said...

Well done.

Jake said...

Welcome home. Glad you're back safe. The blog was cool and all, but I think I would prefer you close by for a while. ;)

Randy said...

Oh, no...this is farewell?

Travel safely, Kari. I'll miss checking in on you and learning what it's like to be a young American woman in Cairo.

And, um...can't we have a new blog? "In Portland"???

Anonymous said...

Hearing you squeal with surprise when we met you at the airport was extra-special. Truly, we're all really happy to have you home!