Ahlan wa-Sahlan!

So, I’ve finally found the time to write my first blog post; which is to say I finally have homework. Despite the feeling of endless summer engendered by orientation (apparently all across the world), I am excited to get down to work. But for now, let me fill you in on what I have been doing for this last few weeks.

Within my first few days in Cairo, I learned some fundamental facts about Egypt and Egyptians. The first thing I learned was that summer in Africa is hot, incredibly, oppressively, cook-the-egg-and-the-chicken-on-the-pavement hot. The second thing I learned was that the beauty of Egyptian “efficiency” will leave you standing in this heat for a very long time. Despite the combined difficulties of dealing with Alitalia and Egyptian airport officials, I did eventually receive my luggage in installments over the next three days.

Despite the frustration, which one always expects when traveling in the third world, I immediately saw Cairo’s charm. But more importantly, I discovered how incredibly hospitable and kind the Egyptian people are. When trying to meet my landlord (a slight misnomer as he is really just a middle-man) he directed me to meet him at the “lovely bazaar.” So on exiting the hotel, I asked the security guard manning the metal detector where I could find a “soukh gemila” (literally a beautiful market). While he attempted to shepherd me into a cab to take me to the Khan el-Kelili (Cairo’s most famous market located in the heart of old Cairo) I noticed a man waving at me to come over to the store across the street, the name of which was “Lovely Bazaar.” The family that owns this store (Mohammed and his sons: Ibrahim, a recent graduate of law school; Husayn, a former driver for a tour company; and Ali) immediately announced themselves to be my “new Egyptian family.” They have become some of the only Egyptians working in the tourism industry that I trust (in the next post I will tell you about our trip to the pyramids with Husayn).

Almost every Egyptian who approaches you on the street seems to be running some kind of tout. They always seem to open with the line “welcome to Egypt” and proceed to compliment your Arabic or tell you that you look like a real Egyptian. The touts have ranged from men trying to take us to stores so that they can take a 50% commission on anything we buy to the offer LE. 60 (roughly LE. 5.75 to the Dollar) photographs with camels.

Besides touts, one is also faced by the daunting task of keeping ones wallet full of the small bills necessary for the bakshish which makes the wheels of Cairo go round. Bakshish (pron. bak-shEEsh) is a cross between a bribe, a tip, and charity. One gives bakshish for everything from getting the car through the security checkpoint at the pyramids at Saqqara or taking pictures inside Phaoronic temples, to bathroom attendants, to the guy who runs up and asks you what floor, then pushes the elevator button for you.

As my new Egyptian family taught me, because as they say, “now, you are Egyptian,” the best way to avoid touts and bakshish from draining your wallet is to flex some linguistic muscle. A simple la shukran (no thank you; pron. laa shOOkron) or a more advanced laes indi foulous (I have no money) is enough to convince them that you know what’s going on and its not worth it to waist their time on you.

Expect more updates soon.