There Will Be Time, There Will Be Time

Allow me to again voice the disbelief that many of us feel at the moment: we have less than two weeks left in Egypt.
Really? I can hardly believe it. It seems like just yesterday we were stepping out of the plane, marveling at the dust storm, worrying over a lost bag, discovering the absence of things we were totally sure we'd packed. So recently we were stressing over the lack of structure to be found in our organizations, the magnitude of work before us, the sleepless nights we were sure awaited us. We were overwhelmed by the noise, the dust, the heat, the traffic, the strangers on the street at all hours just waiting to call out to you or stare as you pass.
And yeah, we've had some bad experiences. We've been sick and we've been tired. There were mornings when class was just not tempting enough to pull us from our beds. There were nights when we didn't do all of our homework or didn't lesson plan or didn't blog. There were times when we chose a football match, or sleep, or some other tempting experience over those responsibilities which seem, on paper, to be more important. We've been frustrated and lost our tempers and wanted to go home.
But oh, how I know I'll miss this place. I'll miss the smiles on my students faces when I climb my way into my St. Andrews' center. I'll miss the genuinely friendly and welcoming comments from absolute strangers, concerned that I am lost or just curious about who I am. I'll miss the cats in the trash stairwell, eagerly awaiting my arrival as I get around to taking the trash out of our kitchen. I'll miss ful, and tamaya, and the bread, and fresh fruit juice. I'll miss the excited smile of our bawab as we turn the corner or emerge from the elevator. I'll miss this time with my fellow DukeEngagers.
For now, I have 12 more days with which to content myself. There's still a lot I want to do: a diner in Maadi to be tried, shops along the route to Ard il-Lewa to be explored, Islamic Cairo to venture around (إن شاء الله), gifts to be bought and places to which I'd like to return. I hope I'll have time left to wander a little, to get lost and just enjoy whatever part of Cairo I find. And I hope I'll be able to make this experience worthwhile and meaningful for my students, and for the kids at Ana el-Misri. And, eventually, I hope to actually remember some of the deluge of new vocabulary from my classes - I just can't seem to remember the word for vegetables (حضروات), or laughter (الضحك), or to try (حاول), or many others which would be absurdly practical but I just don't use enough to actually remember.
So, my motto for the next 12 days? Do better, try harder. I mean, I try to make this my motto most of the time, but sometimes it's easy to lose track. But I've only got 12 days left, and hopefully this time crunch will help me get out there and keep making the most of this last little piece of Cairo. I have such good ideas for my classes and my adventures - I only hope that there will be time enough!

Always Something New

Every day in Cairo is a little bit different. There are new adventures to be had, a new bawab guarding the entrance to our apartment building (a bawab is like a doorman or bellhop, and they chill on the ground floor and open doors for us), new bug bites to be futilely ignored, new types of street food to be attempted, and new places to explore.

When Fernando and I go to Ardilewa (or, Ard al-Liwa), our new adventure is the trip over. The metro ride is pretty standard, give or take the different looks and/or comments I receive, but the microbus ride is always something special. Our first real microbus ride was on the way over, just the two of us, with no one to explain as everyone in the bus began to pass money to a random passenger on the bus. At first, I didn't notice. I was too busy looking out the window, worrying that we were going to miss where we were supposed to get off, and ignoring the man who would not stop staring at the arm I was using to brace myself. Note that we were in the front of a quite crowded bus, facing the rest of the passengers, in an area where very few foreigners venture and certainly, if they do, they don't take the minibus. When I eventually realized that money was going around the bus and I had no idea why, I gave Fernando a panicked look. Did he actually work for the bus driver, but just sit in the back? Was it a low-key holdup that none of the Egyptians cared about but was going to rob us of all of our money? Was I missing some vital, culturally significant activity?

Turns out, it's just easier for everyone on the bus to pass their money forward to someone close enough to pass money to the driver, so my initial fears were unwarranted. But every day on the microbus presents some kind of new puzzle, whether it's how to get the driver to stop, whether or not we should just jump off, how to get around the fold-down seats full of people blocking our exit, or discovering which microbus we should actually get on.

The microbus isn't the end of our adventure, although the market area through which we weave in order to find the correct alleyway down which we meander in order to arrive at the building containing our site is actually usually less exciting, despite its overflow of people, vehicles, animals, goods, and food. But, all in all, pushing through all this is more than made up for by our students, because they are more than worth it!