I sleep crazy hours, but that's okay here. I stayed up until 4 one morning studying, but I was down in the lobby and there were a bunch of other students there too the whole time. Some were studying, others were socializing, others were just playing around on their laptops. It wasn't a big deal to stay up that late; it's like all hours of the day and night are opened up to be inhabited. Some Egyptian kids here have told me that they stay up all night sometimes for no reason and think nothing of it. Sure, they're tired, but malesh (the catchall for "I'm sorry or too bad but don't worry about it because it's not a big deal, whatever"). They can catch up during the next morning or evening.
I'm not sure how long this attitude or lifestyle can last--there's a lot I want to read, for example, and I actually have time to do it here--but this past couple weeks have been very chill and good fun. It's how I would arrange the most perfect vacation--sometimes there's work to be done, but you're surrounded by students, American and otherwise, who are interested enough in the world to care about studying here, but who have time to hang out and do nothing and enjoy each other's company.
For the record I've been drinking small quantities of tap water as of week four, and I've been fine. I must have intestines of steel, because I've eaten pretty much everything I've laid eyes on here and I only feel sick when I over-indulge on Nutella.
There are times I'm hanging out with girls from Arab countries and the conversation will turn down a route that I feel I don't really need to be paying attention to, and it's only tonight that I realized there's something worth mentioning about these moments. I get bored when girls are talking about their crushes, or when my roommate talks with other RA's (yeah, Residence Advisors) about RA politics and whether so-and-so responded inappropriately to such-and-such RA crisis. I tend to allow myself to zone out when these conversations are happening because I tell myself, "This isn't Egyptian--this is just like back home." But, of course, that's stupid. Conversations about crushes or inner-organizational politics are normal--or at least among the upper/middle class girls that I hear having these conversations. There's nothing American about them, or if there is, there's certainly nothing anti-Egyptian because they're happening in Egypt between Egyptians. They're mundane sorts of conversations, and I may not be taking in huge amounts of cultural knowledge from being privy to them because they're personal conversations, not cultural. And that's life--just because it's not a culturally rich moment doesn't mean I should ignore it.
Chris asked about Egyptian men's staring, and there's not much to explain about that. White girls and even non-Egyptian girls of all stripes stand out--even the girls whose parents are Egyptian but who grew up in the States. Egypt gets a lot of tourists, but that doesn't make people any less curious about us. Little kids walk by and say, "Hello, what is your name?" in English and then run away, shy. Men stare, and for those who didn't know, American women have an international reputation not of independence or free-siritedness or high education, but as being loose women. I saw an Egyptian man come up to a blond friend of mine and strike up a conversation by asking if she was married and putting a hand on her thigh. And girls, say from Jordan or Lebanon, have a similar reputation, apparently with the added threat of, "You're Arab so you're one of our women so I have some authority over you." A Palestinian friend of mine says that she's at a disadvantage because Egyptian girls are taught to be tough and can handle these situations. I don't get as much attention as other female students here do, but it comes my way. It's arbitrary of how you dress too, and maybe even of how beautiful you are. One solution is to take control of the situation with a firm, "Asalaamu aleikum," which is a respectful, somewhat religious greeting, and sets a tone in which ogling isn't okay. I do this when I'm walking at night, for example with police officers, who are high on the list of offenders because they have nothing better to do.
There are police officers on every corner practically, particularly in Zamalek (my neighborhood) where there are a lot of foreigners. There are a lot of underemployed people here, like the two guys whose job it is to open the door for you a Cinnabon. And then there'll be five guys working behind the counter, with one cash register and one oven. Underemployment is better than unemployment, but there's plenty of that too.
My roommate is teaching me to order in--the Arab students here don't go out to eat like the American students tend to, even if they wind up spending the same amount of money. Everywhere here delivers. If you want something like groceries or office supplies, the answer is, "Go to Metromart or Alfamart," which are Western style grocery stores. Study-abroads buy food on the street, which Egyptian students think is weird of them. My classmates eat at McDonalds and dress like US-ers (the school uniform appears to be hipster-preppy with the occassional higab, or head scarf, thrown in and sometimes the headscarf will be Louis Vuitton or Gucci) but they aren't as much like us as they seem; this comes out in our different points of reference. They speak great English, but then some don't know what a trumpet is, and the region I know as "Israel" or "Israel and Palestine" is always "Palestine." A couple Americans have said if you want to experience the different side of a country, the most distinctive and seemingly "Egyptian" part of the culture, the least international and the most domestic and traditional, you go to the poor, and you see how they live. That's certainly not the kids we go to school with. Because study abroads like exploring and going out (again, not a money thing but a getting-to-know-Cairo thing, because "going out" is often to cheap places), they know the neighborhood better than full time students. I have postulated with a couple American girls here that this has some deep, social implications or is a sign of larger things. Primarily, it means that people with money here never see or interact with people without money here. Perhaps this means that those who have the capital to take a bite out of poverty aren't informed enough about it to take action. Or perhaps the poverty here is so enormous--in the difference between rich and poor and the number of people who are in need--that it is actually too vast and twisted to be impacted. But I feel like there's something weird at hand when most AUC students don't know the restaurants around campus that are even a single block off the street that connects classroom buildings. Even on said street, there's a place study abroad students go that we call "Magic Window" where you can get Egyptian felafel for 0.75 LE or about 14 American pennies. And my roommate has never been. This is a half block past the last classroom building on the main drag. But the people jostling in line with American students for refried beans and felafel (فول وطعمية) are the Egyptians who labor in the area. Even this small contact increases awareness, I think. Which I guess should make me rethink where I go in the US. Generally, I think that the poorest places are considered unsafe, and here if you go to the poorest places of the city, people will ask what you're doing there or what you're doing, so it's not right to go if you have no business there.
1 comment:
Sounds like you are really becoming part of the culture, Laura. It's great that you are savouring the experience -- it's a good lesson about other cultures. The US has the highest levels of productivity...and stress. Is this what life is supposed to be-one big treadmill? What would happen if we all slowed down and LIVED a little?
Enjoy the coffee, falafel, late nights and neighborhood explores!
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