I have arrived

The flight was long. Of course, that is to be expected, but the concept of a ten hour flight, when considered in theory, is far less exhausting than the actual experience.

I was in the window next to a young Dutch man and an equally young Frenchman. (Should Dutch man be one word, like Frenchman?) I know they were young only because they had a very entertaining conversation about how crazy America is to a European, most especially because they couldn't drink in America! This apparently caused them much consternation, especially the Dutch who consumed about ten beers and three scotches in the course of the flight. After all, in their more civilized, European upbringings, the Frenchman started drinking at age six and the Dutch at 13. As a trade off to these cultural critics, the shopping in America was, apparently, amazing. The Dutch man bought many an electronic accoutrement, five pairs of sneakers, something like fifty t-shirts. . . and although he often ran into trouble getting mayonnaise to go with his fries at Burger King, he managed to weather the wilds of America, despite, even the terrifying fact that San Francisco is built on these crazy hill things, quite foreign to one such as himself.

Okay, sarcasm aside, they were perfectly decent seat mates. They didn't make the flight excruciatingly long, God did. And the Frenchman gave me gum.

Once I finally got to Frankfurt I had five hours to kill and slaughtered one of them by getting some McDonald's fries. The Dutch man's lengthy discussion of the same made me want some. Then I found the distant gate for my next flight and passed out in a very compact fetal position on a bench.

The flight from Frankfurt to Cairo was only three and a half hours long! Germans have it good, travel-to-Cairo-wise. The trip went by even faster because I was so exhausted that I drifted in and out of consciousness even in the uncomfortable chair and, although my vegan meal request hadn't gone through on that flight (it was dandy on the first leg), I wouldn't have been awake enough to eat anything, anyway.

So: Cairo. It is different than anywhere I've been, certainly, but also not that different after all. Unless all the people turn green and start walking on their hands in the daytime - so far I've only seen it at night, and only the smallest fraction.

So many things are familiar. The taxi drivers who assault tourists in the airport to inquire whether they'd like a taxi, madam, are exactly like the drivers who do so at Newark airport. And airport is an airport, after all. Not much room for creativity. Happily, my bags came intact round the bend, customs took two seconds, and the AUC men met the plane with smiles.

Then we were on the road. And the traffic! Just as I knew the plane trip would be long, I knew the traffic would be crazy. After all, that's the city's motto, right? "Cairo: Five thousand years of traffic." But, again, it was surprising to experience what I knew in theory now, first hand. And from the front seat of the minivan.

On the road from the airport there were two official lanes. But to these drivers the lanes were more suggestions than rules. Cars weave in and out of traffic, creating four or so porous lanes where two were meant to be, occasionally signalling and honking to avoid collisions. Once we got to downtown Cairo, the traffic increased, compounded by pedestrians. It was after 9 p.m., but the street was packed with families, kids, teens. The stores were all open and brightly lit.

I was dropped outside my apartment building, then struggled up the four flights to find myself the first inhabitant of this large space. There will be eight of us in the end, it appears. And I may or may not have to share this room.

First things first. Here's the living/dining area of the apartment:
The picture makes the room look shorter than it is - in fact, it is quite long.

The apartment has a large living/dining area, five bedrooms, three bathrooms and a kitchen. There are a washer and drier (well, at least a washer, I'm not sure about the drier) in one of the bathrooms, a big fridge and full oven in the kitchen. Each room is meant to hold two women, except the single, which was sitting mysteriously empty and unassigned, until. . .

Hey, like the suspense I'm building here? I try.


Here is my room:
Look, blankets, sheets, towels! They kindly AUC faeries even left bottled water in the fridge for us. And, most importantly, wireless internet.

I went to sleep around 11, I'd say. Then I work up at 12:20 and was convinced, briefly, that it was p.m. I was very confused - the windows here are covered by dark green shutters I know not how to open, and so I had to turn on the computer to check that it was not actually daytime, not yet time to go explore. Although, had I done so, I'm sure the streets would have still been full, the shops open. Anyway, around 5 my roommate arrived. I heard the sound, I guess, because I woke up and saw a light in the empty single, but I didn't construct any conclusions about that until she knocked on my door.

She took the single so as not to wake me and also, presumably, because who wouldn't want a single over a double? This means, then, that barring any external objections I can have this room all to myself and rearrange the furniture (again - yes, I did it already once. I do so love rearranging furniture) as I see fit. And I can have two beds! And two wardrobes! It will be nice, if it happens this way. It's nice enough already.