Yes, I know my feet are sexy, but kindly take your lips off of them

There have been some strange instances of male attention of late, but over all I'm still pleased when welcomed to Egypt. Often, the same men who have greeted me are surprised at my smiles (they can't read the irony in my expression, I guess) and declare that I must not have been in Egypt very long or I wouldn't be still smiling.

How sad! I don't want to stop smiling! I don't want to stop looking in people's faces, people are interesting and often have hilarious mustaches.

But two events have made me a bit more jaded this week, at least as relates to personal space.

First: Many a cab here has back doors that cannot be opened from the inside, so I didn't think too much of it when a driver hopped out to open my door the other night. I more than a little taken aback, however, when he proceeded to kneel and kiss my foot. Repeatedly. I only thought about kicking him later, at which point I had an unhappy fantasy of broken teeth and bloody gashes that won't go away. In the moment, I said something eloquent along the lines of "Ew, stop it!" and pushed his head away. I didn't want to have to touch his sweaty head, but neither did I want his lips to remain on my feet.

I can't imagine that the experience was worth it for him. Those feet had been through the streets of Cairo all day in nothing but flip flops. Their soles were black with dirt and their tops couldn't have been much better. He was risking all kinds of dread diseases to slobber near my tosies.

Then: A few days latter, Roommate 3 and I were walking to campus and prepared to pass some little boys playing with a volleyball in the street. Suddenly, the biggest little boy threw the ball directly at my head. Luckily, my ninja skills were in full play and I slammed that ball right back at him with yet another eloquent comeback that I think was "Hey!" He laughed and said, in English, "Sorry!" without shifting his smile one iota. Not the most convincing of apologies, but I'll write it off as youthful exuberance because I'm feeling so triumphant about my ability to avoid missiles to the face.

Today I completed the second step in getting my student visa. This process will be repeated every semester I am here. First, a week ago, I turned in my filled in form to the Visa and Military Services Office. Today, I was to go to room 423 in the main building.

So I climbed to the fourth floor of that building and followed the classroom numbers up to 420 and. . .that was it. Finally, I asked an official looking person where room 423 is (it might be 424, I can't quite recall, but the lack of room was the same). The woman told me that I had to go out on the roof, walk to the end and take a left. Of course, out on the roof, why didn't I think of that?

The roof was pretty interesting. There was a little room where I think people were praying - a bunch of men went in and left their shoes behind. There was a view of campus and of Tahrir Square, and finally another entrance where some important offices are located. As far as I can tell, crossing the roof is the only way to access said offices. A strange set up indeed.

Here is a picture of AUC campus from the roof:
You see one of the two basketball courts where people heartier than I play in the heat and sun of the afternoon.

This is Tahrir Square:
In the distance you can see the Cairo Tower, at the top of which is a rotating restaurant that costs something like 90 pounds for tea, and more for the fixed menu meals. But just think of the views! I think I'll save a trip there until special people come to visit, especially special people who like to pay my dinner tabs.

Oh, and look at that traffic while you're at it. The tour guide on my weekend trip quipped that Cairo doesn't have rush hour, it has "rush day" - the traffic is nonstop from 6 am to midnight.

Seems about right to me. And in Ramadan (which starts this Thursday!!!), it's meant to be even worse!

But so long as fasting precludes foot-kissing, I'll be okay.

Here's hoping.