Settling in Quite Nicely...

Of course the sights in a new place are fascinating but I am starting to wonder if the appeal to traveling to unfamiliar lands is really about seeking a feeling within ourselves. It seems to grant us the rare and beautiful opportunity to see the world through the eyes of a child again. Everything is new. Everything is confusing. Everything is beautiful - even when it isn't. We take what we know and compare it to what we see - are fascinated by differences and are connected by similarities. We walk with our eyes open again - noticing things we don't always take the time to notice at home. We are open to experiences - impromptu conversations with strangers, long waits, tedious errands. Maybe part of why we travel is searching for this openness.

At the same time it is incredible to me how quickly things become normal. I have been meaning to sit down and write this for some time now but when I think about doing it I always conclude that I "don't really have anything interesting to say" which means that in two short weeks so many things have stopped surprising me. Already it is normal to go to a storeseveral times in a night hoping to catch them when they are open, to drive through the desert where people can be seen sitting reading the Qu'ran on your way to work, to be so aware of how people are perceiving opposite sex interactions – especially touch, to see people praying everywhere – in mosques (and overflowing outside when they fill) which are everywhere as well as on patches of grass or on sides of streets. Perhaps this ability to adapt so quickly is part of what gives the ability to do things like pack up and move to Egypt (or wherever we may be).

So…daily life here. I wake up to the familiar sound of the call to prayer at 3:45, listen for a little while and then go back to sleep, thankful to have another 2 hours. I try to get dressed – but I am still confused about what I am allowed to wear. The dress code is different than I was initially told (ie. floor length skirt, not just below the knee) so I can’t wear a lot of what I brought. Even the stuff that seems to be what they want I am not sure about. I have been wearing what I thought to be appropriate based on what they told us on our first day and then the other day one of the two other Western teachers was approached and told that she can’t have the foreign teachers not following the dress code and asking if money is the problem (then we were shuffled around and she drove us home instead of our driver and dropped us off at the mall). I am far more formal than all the other women so I have to assume this means that the clothes I am wearing are either too tight or too low cut (even though I am careful about this). I remain confused and stressed out by this misunderstanding. Anyway once I affix the proper scarves to cover or try to pin or adjust clothing appropriately I head outside and wait for the driver that the school sends for me. This time of day (before 7 am) is lovely because there is a breeze and the heat isn’t so intense yet.

I exchange greetings and pleasantries in Arabic with my driver because this is all of the language that I have mastered so far. He is quiet on the drive to school (not one for the morning I presume, he saves all his chatting for the drive home). We drive through the desert for twenty minutes (note the pictures were taken out the window...apologies)

When we reach the school I step out of the cab and stare up at this place and am again amazed at how beautiful it is. There are easily seven gardeners (all in their spiffy green jumpsuits) working on the grounds. I wave. I walk past the security at the school’s entrance and after more Arabic greetings I am at the fingerprint punch in system (that’s right...my fingerprint gets me

into my school!) I visit my classroom briefly before heading into the air conditioned auditorium (by this point it is almost 8 am and the heat is blazing). We spend a good part of the day talking about things that would be so strange to discuss in an orientation at home but that offer fascinating insight into the culture here. We discuss the importance of not allowing children or each other to interrupt. A lot of the teachers say things like “but what if we don’t mind”. “what if they are in a rush”. Here it is extremely common to be talking to someone and have someone walk in and carry on a conversation and then leave without any awareness of the interruption. This does not seem to bother anyone involved in the interaction in the slightest. We vote over culturally appropriate signals to give children and each other when they try to interrupt. We discuss wait in line behind each other and how we have to force ourselves to be aware of when they aren’t. Again, lines are not respected here – it seems you just jump in wherever you can. We are told to practice standing in line at the fingerprint machine on our way out at the end of the day. We discuss how we will also have to enforce that the children call us by name here – apparently this is also not a practice here and students often do not know teachers’ names. They thought jumping to last names would be a big leap here and so they will call us Ms/Mr. and our first name. So I am Ms. Melissa! I like it. More orientation/training/time to work in our classrooms and the work day is done. Because of Ramadan the days are shorter – everyone is fasting so energy is low in this heat (it is the water that is the hardest to do without).

On the cab ride home the driver chats with the American teacher, Mr. Billy, who speaks Arabic. After we drop him off though the driver talks to me. He knows that I do not understand – and yet he continues. I nod and giggle and say “aywa” (Arabic for “yes”) a lot. Sometimes I can make out the subject if he throws out a familiar word or offers a hand gesture or some combination of the two (not eating/drinking because of Ramadan, some sort of discussion of sleep, various Egyptian cities, the director of the school, something about the sun – I presume a discussion about the heat, hooka…) but still all I can say is my standard “aywa”. These interactions make me laugh. He puts this vial of scented oil in the air conditioner vent and yesterday had me smell it – and the entire collection he keeps in the glove compartment. I guess I was more enthusiastic in my “kwaiyis “ (Arabic for ‘good’) because he insisted that I put out my hand so he could put some on me. He then did this with three or four others. We sat in the car, not moving , doing this for quite awhile. He is now endearingly known as my perfume guy. Today after dropping the American teachers off we sat in the car and watched video of his daughter on his phone – several times. Who knows what tomorrow brings.

I finally get home and it is too hot to do anything. I usually take a nap. The city is completely deserted during the day. This is due to a combination of the summer heat and Ramadan. The

people you do see out are guards, street cleaners etc. and they are often laying under the refuge of a tree. A little later I buy groceries (my favourite pass time so far) and run errands. Stores are often closed. I get that they close for iftar (the meal at 6:30 that breaks the fast) and they close at prayer times but sometimes they just seem to be closed. So you come back later….they might be open Insha’allah. Or they might not. This is how it works here. You just go with it. I have needed a permanent marker for two days – maybe tonight I will choose a better time to go get it and they will be open. This doesn’t bother me….it is all part of it and I embrace it. The city comes to life at night. Everything opens around 9 and stay open far past my bedtime. Walks and errands are great at night because it is cool and you can walk around. I like to sit outside on my front steps and get some work done…there is a beautiful breeze and feeling all around. No one sleeps. I know because when I go to bed all I hear is children screaming and playing, people in the streets, cars honking. It seems they are all on your time back home and I am the only one on Cairo time.