GIRL TALK: Down and dirty

Okay girls, here’s the real truth to living in Cairo (men, you may want to skip this part, it’s best not to know too much):

Hair – For those of us affected follicley by humidity (whether it’s those of us whose curls tend to expand, to those others whose do’s flatten), I’m finding that living in a dry country such as Egypt might be a really good thing. The lack of humidity makes hair happy; which in turn, makes us happy. Full circle of pure happiness. I may have uncovered the perfect-hair resort, or perfect hair-resort, you choose. ☺

Mani/Pedis – I wasn’t sure what I was going to find in terms of manicures and pedicures. However, it’s become very clear that getting a manicure or pedicure in Cairo will not be a problem. Deciding where to go, will. There are salons all over the place, in all neighborhoods. I’ll have to start asking around for some recommendations or referrals. I’ve also heard that you can arrange to have them come to your house. Further exploration in this area will continue.

Purses – For many of us, finding the right purse can be a life-long, never-ending, ever-changing pursuit. For others of us, we’re just extremely finicky and our tastes change with the wind. Bottom line is, many of us have a lot of purses (yes, I’m confessing a personal issue here). So before coming here, I actually spent some time thinking about what purse might be best for my new life in Cairo (I know most men would be boggled to learn that any thought went into this at all). I decided on a small purse, one just to carry money, ID and keys, with a long strap. I found it, bought it, and on day two here, learned that it was exactly the wrong purse to bring. Lovely.

Overall, there is very little personal crime in Cairo. Though pick-pockets and purse-snatching does occur. So I learned to never use a purse that is worn across the body (ie., long strap), and to walk facing the traffic and carry my purse/bag on the opposite side of the cars (so drive-by snatchings can’t occur). So I messed up. But you know what this means… purse shopping in Cairo!! For those of you on the edge of your seats wondering what I’m doing purse-wise in the interim, I’ve opted for a synch-top backpack. Works fine; just not very cute.

Fashion – I’ve already mentioned the “fashionably forward” crowd in Zamalek, and the bedazzled shoes, but I have to drop a note about Egyptian clothing. There are many women here wearing the traditional gallibaya (long, loose, “dress”), some in colors, some all black with the full headscarf (called a “niqab” – pronounced “ni-kab”), showing only their eyes, though the latter is definitely in the minority. Most other women opt for more traditional western dress, but some still wear the headscarf (“hijab”). Some of the younger women, teens and twenties, fall into this latter category. And I have to say that I’ve noticed that Egyptian women have fantastic figures. They cover their hair with the hijab, many in the most amazingly beautiful fabrics, and wear very close-fitting tops with long full skirts (often denim). (I have yet to learn how they fasten the hijab, but I will attempt to find out.) The young men’s clothing tends to be very western, though some men do wear full gallibayas (typically older men, in basic white, cream, gray, or brown shades), others wear pants with a gallibaya shirt. I know very little about the traditional dress, but as I learn more I will share. I do know that neither men nor women, beyond childhood years, ever wear shorts. And some older men wear variations of head-coverings, sometimes a turban-type thing, others a while cap, but I have to find out more about these as I’m not sure of the reasons for them, nor the names. (You can see some of these items in the photos from The Khan, though I know they're dark.)

Shoes – I’ve already covered these some, and I promise pictures (it’s like looking at schools of shiny, colorful, sparkly tropical fish), but I will add that my MBT tennis shoes and crocs (of the mock and genuine variety) are working out perfectly. The only issue is dust. Which actually makes the crocs ideal, as I can just hose them off when we get home.

Temperature – So I hear it’s hot here; really really hot. Like 140 degrees in the shade in the height of summer. But currently, in April/May it’s beautiful, simply perfect. Sunny during the day (always), warm, but then evenings turn cool enough to wear a light sweater. But since true ladies, and certainly “diplomat wives,” don’t sweat and merely glisten, I’m sure I’ll have no issues regardless of the temperature. I also hear that winters here actually get cold enough for coats. But there’s still no chance of snow in Cairo. We may have to “hop” over to Switzerland for a quick snowball fight in December.

THE KHAN – Everything you want, even if you don’t know you want it

In addition to the pyramids of Giza (there are pyramids all over Egypt, so one must specify), which are less than 40 minutes by car from us, there is also “The Khan” as a major tourist draw. It’s officially called Khan el-Khalili, but us locals refer to it as “the Khan” (okay, everyone does, but I’m trying to acclimate here!). So this past Monday Ron agreed to take me down to the Khan, just to experience it.

Our first adventure was taking the metro. Cairo has a metro system similar to Washington, DC’s in that they have the 3-4 colored lines. We’re lucky that in Maadi we’re only a few blocks from the metro. I won’t mention that we got lost in those few blocks, but managed to go around again, and this time take the correct off-shoot from the traffic circle and find the metro right there. We went in, up to the window (like an old-fashioned train station), paid our 1LE each, and got two paper tickets. We climbed the stairs over the train tracks to get on the right side (I’m still getting my bearings and find my north and south meters are often wrong). The metro system here has “women only” cars, but there have been discussions about it moving from the front of the trains to somewhere in the middle. I was told to merely look for the gaggle of women and go stand near them, when I choose to ride the train alone. I forgot to even look for it when Ron and I were waiting. It would by my suggestion that they just paint these cars pink, make it easier for everyone to locate them (though surprisingly, no one’s asked for my opinion yet).

After a few minutes the train arrived and we clambered aboard. It was very similar to DC or NYC subways, seats along the side, rails and poles to hang on to, straps (for those who attain to be straphangers, like nephew Max in Tokyo). The only difference I’d say was the lack of air-conditioning, though on the day we rode it it really wasn’t necessary, but I could see that in the summer it be a whole different experience. Men and women were riding in the car, so I don’t know how necessary the “women’s” car is, though I might feel different without Ron next to me. At one stop as we were standing there, holding our straps, in front of the open doors, some boys walked by and waved at us. How nice. ☺ I opted not to return the gesture. Ron told me later that he was ever-vigilant about making sure there wasn’t any casual touching, brushing, or basic grabbing on my persons. And there wasn’t.

So we exited at Sadat Station, in downtown, right near the Egyptian Museum. Now, when I say exited, I should clarify that it was more of a mosh-pit like shove-down. I’ve been in subways and trains in Boston, DC, NY, London, Amsterdam, Germany, etc., and never have I experienced a mob-scene like that. I never felt afraid, per se, however I was gripping my purse/camera tightly and doing my best to move forward, hoping that Ron was close behind me. We finally burst onto the platform and I turned to see Ron emerging from the fray. I just had to laugh. The concept of those entering the train standing to the side to allow those exiting to do so, is completely foreign – obviously. Good to know. I’ll bring my battering ram or tazer next time.

Once outside, we headed to the line of taxis. Most were empty of drivers, who were sitting on a wall nearby. Ron leaned in to ask the one driver in a car about going to the Khan, and we were immediately surrounded by loud and fast Arabic. Apparently we needed to go to the first cab in line, though somehow we ended up in the second one. Regardless, he took us to the Khan and we exited onto a busy street of tiny stores. Ron led us around the corner where it opened into a large grassy square, bracketed on one side by a huge beautiful mosque, draped in tiny Christmas lights (I guess they’re just colored lights in this context). SIDE NOTE: Egyptians, or at least Cairenes, love strings of colored lights. They decorate cabs, buildings, trees, store fronts, feluccas, and mosques in draped and wrapped strings of lights, neon lights, etc. In some areas it’s like a carnival. There was something almost Hollywood-like about the whole scene. Hundreds of people milling about, in all forms of dress, with every nationality present (tour buses were coming through with great regularity).

We summoned our strength and determination and dove into the fray of the Khan. You know when you’re on an amusement ride, and you sit down, strap in, and the ride starts to move forward and you enter through doors into a dark or other-worldly place just before the car jettisons forward? Well, this was the same experience, minus the plastic sticky seats. We walked into a small alleyway crammed full of shops (not an experience for the claustrophobic or agoraphobic). It was a bombardment of sights, sounds, and all sensory sensations. There was tourist chachka as far as you could see, pyramid replicas in all shapes, sizes and materials (I think I saw a blow-up one), sphinx replicas, brass plates, bowls and pitchers, jewelry of all kinds (some wearable, some just to gawk at), t-shirts, keychains, everything a tourist would ever buy. In addition to the stuff, stuff, and stuff (it was like our old apartment), there were hawkers everywhere at every turn, trying to get you into their store (which has the same stuff as the next guy’s store and the next after that). They are relentless, constantly yelling at you, offering a “free look,” actually yelling, “I don’t know what you want, but I know I have it.” I laughed out loud the first time I heard that, but by the seventh, it had lost its humor. Most of these guys stop at physically dragging you into their shop, some don’t. But if you make it through the first section, you find yourself in an equally Kafka-esque section, but now we get into the marginally less-touristy merchandise, and depending on your digging skills, some good buys.

Gallibayas are the traditional shirt or dress worn here. They come in a huge range of colors with beautiful beading or embroidery and are cotton, long-sleeved, loose and comfortable. They are all over the Khan and you hear non-stop, “Gallibaya for the lady?” “Gallibaya for man?” Ron’s favorite was, “I have your size.” I’m sure we’ll purchase a gallibaya here or there in the future, but for now we declined, constantly.

The Khan is laid out like a labyrinth or a hedge-maze made out of shops. In addition to the crazy twists and turns of the narrow cobbled streets, there are stairways and alley off-shoots everywhere. This is probably one of the only places in the world where it’s relatively safe to allow a stranger to lead you down a dark alley; here you’ll end up at to a tiny shop where gold jewelry is being made before your eyes, or appliqué wall-hangings are being sewn, or “genuine antiquities” are being sold just to you.

At one point Ron led me, much to the excitement of the hawker on the street, up a narrow stone staircase. At the top we found ourselves in an open-air courtyard with more shops all around the edges. We wandered into a few here, as they were less crowded and the sellers were, well, less obnoxious, than the main street guys. Here we could actually browse or “look for free” as the hawkers promise relentlessly. We saw some beautiful brass ware, from name plates, to bowls and pitchers, to basically anything that could be made out of brass.

In addition to the items you see for sale, most of these merchants can also make things to your specifications. Unlike the states, here you often buy directly from the artist or designer, or if they can’t do it, they know someone who can create what you want. It’s an exciting option to be able to requisition a piece of furniture or art or kitchenware, as opposed to buying the latest from China in a box with too much packaging. I’m sure we’ll partake of this option during our time here (though I’m not sure Ron knows that we’ll partake of this option…).

The thing about the Khan is if you have the luxury of being able to return a few times, and not be constrained to the tour bus slots, you can explore it first, peek at things here and there, get an idea of what you might be interested in (silver or gold jewelry, beads, gemstones, clothing, glassware, marble, brass, bronze, etc.), get recommendations from others, and then go back with a purpose. There are some fantastic shops wedged inside, and it just takes a little time, effort and determination to find them. But even if you’re only here for a few days, you have to at least attempt the gauntlet of the Khan.

Our new home... in three months

So on our first weekend here, which is Friday and Saturday as we follow the local workweek of Sunday through Thursday, we decided to explore the neighborhood of Zamalek, where our permanent housing will be starting in July. Ron had been hoping to get housing here as it’s closer to work, and in a more “downtown” area. Most people with kids try to live in Maadi, as it’s close to the international schools and closer to the commissary (though you still have to drive there). But Zamalek is full of single-folk and couples with no kids, and they don’t discriminate against those with felines. (Unfortunately, there are also tons of stray felines milling about as well, though I will admit that they seem quite content. However, in comparing them to Chuckles and Ricky, they are about a third to a quarter of their size! I now see what my friend's step-daughter, Matilde, was talking about when she referred to the "Fat American Cats." This is a picture of an orange-boy in the courtyard of our new home.)

Zamalek is actually an island, located in downtown Cairo, in the middle of the Nile. One website described it as, “… a thriving center for middle and upper class Egyptians, along with foreign dignitaries (there are more embassies in Zamalek than any other district of Cairo) and many tourists. It remains one of the most pleasant areas of Cairo. Indeed, it is Cairo's most fashionable residential district where one will find the BMW's and Mercedes of rich Egyptians, supermarkets that sell sushi or French pastries and always an upbeat take on Egyptian life.” Okay, so with our arrival, it may be less of a “most fashionable residential district,” but we’ll do our best not to affect it too much.

This outing was really an opportunity for me to see our potential new home for the next several years. I say potential, because had I really not felt comfortable there or just not “liked” it, we probably could have opted for other housing. However, I really liked it. It’s very tree-ey, lots of character in the architecture (see picture of tree-ey street with nice buildings), walkable, and very livable (and I didn’t find it too fashionably-threatening). It’s definitely a city, but I’ll finally get to live out my teenage dream of living in NYC… just 5,621 miles to the east (good ole, Wikipedia).

Currency conversion - math, yuck

The current rate of currency conversion for Egyptian pounds (LE) to USD is about 1LE = $0.17. So I created a cheat-sheet at home for figuring out the cost conversion, however, despite feeling like I have a grip on things, when I am faced with a shelf of items and have to decide what to buy and what the price is, I go completely blank. I know that when the hawkers yell out that something is “Only one pound,” then it’s only 17 cents, and the metro here is only 1LE one-way, so that’s great, but when in the stores I tend to just stare at the cans of peaches as I try to multiply in the air. (I've finally created a small cheat sheet to keep in my purse that I can casually pull out when I'm shopping, so I don't balk at spending 10LE on a loaf of bread, which is really just about $1.70.) The learning continues...

It may be temporary, but it's home to us

Our temporary housing is definitely not what I was imaging (and I'm very grateful for that, since we'll be in it through mid-July). It consists of a four-bedroom, three full-bath apartment, with five balconies, a full kitchen, a 12-place dining table, three couches, multiple chairs, five beds (four twin), and if I count them, at least nine closets. From our two-bedroom, one-bath condo in Maryland, which was so stuffed to the brim with, well, stuff, that we had to play the “square game” in order to move around (you know, the child’s tile game where in order to move a tile you had to move another one to free up a space), this current dwelling actually allows us to run up and down the hallway. Not that we’re doing that, of course, well, Ron does chase Chuckles up and down, but we’ve found it’s best if we exercise him daily in order to tire him out, Chuckles, that is.

Upon our arrival, we were provided with a “hospitality kit” that we could use until our stuff arrived. It held a wide assortment of household items, some very useful such as towels and sheets, pots and pans, kettle, coffee maker, paper towels, glasses and silverware, two bars of soap, an alarm clock, mop, broom and vacuum, etc. It also came with some mildly odd items, such as a cheese grater, serving platter, egg beater (though I think that may be the whisk I found). We were also given a set of dishes, plates and bowls, though the bowls we have to admit were rather small. To see Ron trying to eat a bowl of cereal out of these bowls was like handing a gerbil a thimble full of seeds. So we did opt to buy two new human-sized cereal bowls, but otherwise haven’t had to supplement it (though we did manage to forget to bring a travel mug for Ron’s coffee, so we’ll probably have to get one before our shipment of the 15 we already own arrives).

One of my tasks while Ron was at work one day was to review our hospitality kit list, and check off what we received and didn’t, just to make sure the eyelash-curler set had been unpacked (kidding about the curler, but not about the process). It was a list of over 60 items, and I checked and counted them all. It enabled me also to truly explore all the bedrooms, closets, dressers and unknown doors, in our apartment. There were only a few items I couldn’t find or identify, I mean, when you say “serving tray,” that means some type of wooden tray, right? Couldn’t find it. But I did find a laundry room, a full-sized dishwasher and microwave (neither of which I’ve been able to figure out yet – I did find a manual on the microwave, but it’s all in German and we already know my Deutsch limitations, so as a result, I’ve decided to not use the dishwasher, and just keep pressing the 30-second button on the microwave). I also found a slightly creepy storeroom that had another full-size fridge in it. When we got our delivery of water bottles I promptly and ever-so-efficiently put them all away in the new fridge. But apparently it wasn’t a fridge. It was a freezer. So by the next day we had over 50 bottles of ice blocks. Lesson #1.

All in all, our temporary housing is great. It’s safe (in a walled-compound with 24-hour guards), comfortable, more room than we know what to do with, Ron’s friends set up a TV and DVD player for us, we have Internet access and there's a sunroom set up perfectly for the cats. What else is there, right?