(no subject)
Some days, Cairo beats me. I've been here a year and a half and while it's been about six months since I had an episode like this, just when you think you have the hang of the place and can handle most situations, Cairo comes back in and punches you in the face.
It was roasting by 7am. I was supposed to travel to Alex - had my ticket for the 11 o'clock train, so I set off at 1015 which is oodles of time, except there are protests at Mespiro and the front concourse of the station is closed off, causing traffic mayhem, and anyway the driver didn't listen to me and took me to the Hilton Ramsses instead of the station, which is known as Ramsses station. I should probably have been clearer but I don't think it was my bad arabic this time, he just wasn't really listening and thought I was a tourist.
So I arrived at the station at 1125, having missed my train, but went in to buy another ticket, which is always hell and full of people blatantly pushing in, then apologising extravagantly when you point out you were there first; I chose the ticket window where it took literally half an hour for one man to get served, and then another man actually got into a fight with the serving guy, punches were even thrown. Finally after two people pushing in and one person trying to tell me the window was only for armed forces staff (it was; but that didn't stop everyone and anyone getting served there) I had an argument with a pushy guy in bad arabic and I finally got my ticket, for the 2pm train. The time it takes to meticulously fill out tickets and handle all these mysterious receipts and obsolete ticketing machines, is absolutely the reason, I felt at this point in my entitled near-death state, that Egypt had a revolution. At this point it was 1215 and I was about ready to cry, because just under two hours is exactly the time it would take to go anywhere vaguely A/Ced in this traffic, whereupon I would have to turn around anyway and head back to the station. So I thought fuck this, I'm stressed enough with missing work as it is, I'll go home.
That was another hour in the car to get back to the office, with an asshole driver who kept complaining that downtown was crowded (then don't agree to take me there, dude) and who helped himself to a generous tip without me offering it (the fare came to 3.75LE, and he kept a fiver), so I gave him the finger that quite frankly at that point he received on behalf of all Cairo.
I got to work at 1330. All in all I've covered an area not much bigger than two square miles. I've totally regressed; usually Cairo can't shake me, but right now I might as well have just stepped off the plane and into a rip-off cab.
The weekend was nice though. Tarek, an artist friend, has access to his building's rooftop in the centre of Zamalek, so Mohammed persuaded him to set up Rock Band, a sound system and the projector, and we all played up there under the stars. Rock Band is obviously bad and evil as youth culture, passive consumerism and entertainment goes but who cares, it's enormous fun, and even more so high on a warm night on the roof in the epicentre of a city like Cairo. We played boys vs girls and I was an excellent Lady Gaga. 99% on Expert, oh yes. Felt a tiny bit guilty us all belting out Sex on Fire just as all the minarets began the evening prayer, but actually, this is what rock n roll authenticity we offered to this otherwise totally ersatz game.
Note - Rock Band never fails to make me realise how disgustingly sexist rock n roll is as a culture. Not that we don't already know that. It just becomes clearer.
Mohammed and I are back somewhere together, somewhere very good. It's taken more than six months to start to get this feeling back. It partly has something to do with the sex, which is no longer just good sex but a way of connecting to each other again. I had begun to think I had imagined that. We were coasting and then I screamed at him at work for being an asshole, and then I got my period - whoops, it's always the hormones talking - and then some sort of membrane has broken and all our emotions can flood around each other again. Thank goodness. I slept beautifully for the first time in weeks at the weekend, not lazing heavy dopey lying-in but honest to god being properly sleeping, and Mohammed woke me at noon with his huge smile and kisses on the eyes and had obviously left me there because for once I was peaceful. It was lovely.
Sadly that's over now and I went straight back to insomnia at roughly 1.30 this morning. Didn't sleep until 5, and then I had to be up at 7, and if you've got this far you know the rest of that story.
It was roasting by 7am. I was supposed to travel to Alex - had my ticket for the 11 o'clock train, so I set off at 1015 which is oodles of time, except there are protests at Mespiro and the front concourse of the station is closed off, causing traffic mayhem, and anyway the driver didn't listen to me and took me to the Hilton Ramsses instead of the station, which is known as Ramsses station. I should probably have been clearer but I don't think it was my bad arabic this time, he just wasn't really listening and thought I was a tourist.
So I arrived at the station at 1125, having missed my train, but went in to buy another ticket, which is always hell and full of people blatantly pushing in, then apologising extravagantly when you point out you were there first; I chose the ticket window where it took literally half an hour for one man to get served, and then another man actually got into a fight with the serving guy, punches were even thrown. Finally after two people pushing in and one person trying to tell me the window was only for armed forces staff (it was; but that didn't stop everyone and anyone getting served there) I had an argument with a pushy guy in bad arabic and I finally got my ticket, for the 2pm train. The time it takes to meticulously fill out tickets and handle all these mysterious receipts and obsolete ticketing machines, is absolutely the reason, I felt at this point in my entitled near-death state, that Egypt had a revolution. At this point it was 1215 and I was about ready to cry, because just under two hours is exactly the time it would take to go anywhere vaguely A/Ced in this traffic, whereupon I would have to turn around anyway and head back to the station. So I thought fuck this, I'm stressed enough with missing work as it is, I'll go home.
That was another hour in the car to get back to the office, with an asshole driver who kept complaining that downtown was crowded (then don't agree to take me there, dude) and who helped himself to a generous tip without me offering it (the fare came to 3.75LE, and he kept a fiver), so I gave him the finger that quite frankly at that point he received on behalf of all Cairo.
I got to work at 1330. All in all I've covered an area not much bigger than two square miles. I've totally regressed; usually Cairo can't shake me, but right now I might as well have just stepped off the plane and into a rip-off cab.
The weekend was nice though. Tarek, an artist friend, has access to his building's rooftop in the centre of Zamalek, so Mohammed persuaded him to set up Rock Band, a sound system and the projector, and we all played up there under the stars. Rock Band is obviously bad and evil as youth culture, passive consumerism and entertainment goes but who cares, it's enormous fun, and even more so high on a warm night on the roof in the epicentre of a city like Cairo. We played boys vs girls and I was an excellent Lady Gaga. 99% on Expert, oh yes. Felt a tiny bit guilty us all belting out Sex on Fire just as all the minarets began the evening prayer, but actually, this is what rock n roll authenticity we offered to this otherwise totally ersatz game.
Note - Rock Band never fails to make me realise how disgustingly sexist rock n roll is as a culture. Not that we don't already know that. It just becomes clearer.
Mohammed and I are back somewhere together, somewhere very good. It's taken more than six months to start to get this feeling back. It partly has something to do with the sex, which is no longer just good sex but a way of connecting to each other again. I had begun to think I had imagined that. We were coasting and then I screamed at him at work for being an asshole, and then I got my period - whoops, it's always the hormones talking - and then some sort of membrane has broken and all our emotions can flood around each other again. Thank goodness. I slept beautifully for the first time in weeks at the weekend, not lazing heavy dopey lying-in but honest to god being properly sleeping, and Mohammed woke me at noon with his huge smile and kisses on the eyes and had obviously left me there because for once I was peaceful. It was lovely.
Sadly that's over now and I went straight back to insomnia at roughly 1.30 this morning. Didn't sleep until 5, and then I had to be up at 7, and if you've got this far you know the rest of that story.