Egypt, Day 7: Entertaining Angels

The conductor knocked on my door a few moments after I awoke. Getting ready in a flash, I took my breakfast tray and enjoyed the bread, cheese, and took the orange for later. Consulting my maps, I had a difficult time deciding which Cairo station to get off at, Ramses or Giza. I told the conductor Giza, but ended getting off at Ramses. From there, I took the subway to the station nearest Cairo Gateway, Cairo's main bus station. Finding the bus station from the subway, however, was a little bit more difficult. It took asking for directions from the information window at the subway, and two traffic policemen as well as crossing multiple lanes of Cairo traffic.

I walked towards the station, lamenting the decided lack of street sign names. Finally finding something that looked like a large bus station, I walked towards what I thought was an entrance. It was an entrance - just not for people.

Getting some directions from the mechanics there, I found the main entrance and entered the plaza, easily buying my ticket. I boarded the tour bus with a large group of men, standing out a bit as the only female on board.

The bus made its way through the Cairo traffic, making a few stops: once, for the driver to get off, talk with a friend of his, and make a few small purchases; once, for two or three passengers to be picked up from a random street; and once and finally at another bus station, this one very small. Another woman got on and settled herself beside me; of course, the bus tickets are sold for seats segregated by gender (there are some really nice things about living in a predominantly Muslim country; one of which is that I rarely, rarely ever have to sit by a man on any sort of public transport).

She was a lovely older woman; we had what conversation we could, establishing who I was, who she was, and all about our families. We were hampered, of course, by my rather lack of substantial Arabic. After my "I am a student, studying at the University of Jordan," spiel, my ability to make spontaneous conversation rather degenerates.

The trip to Iskandria (Alexandria) only lasted about three hours; however, it seemed much longer. I did my best to nod off once or twice, but the awful chanting of the quran - loudly - the entire bus ride did not permit it. Neither did the horrible odor of stale incense, sweat, and bad men's cologne.

We came closer to Iskandria, and "Fatima" asked me about my plans. I told her I planned to stay at a hotel; this, however, was not good enough for her. Now, I had the hotel name with me, and I had its phone number; but the street name was in the fold of my paper and had been obliterated. My plan was to call the hotel and ask them the street name and if that didn't work, I had a list of 5 other hotels, their phone numbers and their street names - but Fatima wasn't having this. We arrived at the bus stop, and I was surprised at the lack of a bus station: it was only a gravel parking lot with lots of buses and taxi drivers hovering about the doors as soon as the bus stopped. Fatima took my by the arm and nearly dragged me through the small crowd. It may have looked like I was being the considerate young lady helping her grandmother along, but believe me, she was taking me hostage.

She flagged a taxi from the street and gave him directions, taking me back to her house. Once there, she showed me to her room and did her best to convince me to stay with her. She told me how she was all alone - her husband dead; her daughter a doctor and her son a pilot. She told me it would be much better for me to stay with her, much better indeed. I agreed to stay.

We talked for a while in her salon, as I tried to establish a little of my family history. The conversation quickly petered out, however, and we went to watch Al-Jazeera for a while. Now, I had planned to spend that day in Alexandria going to the library and to a coffee shop or two as well as a museum. Fatima decided she would come with me - rather, she would take me to the library. However, we first needed to take lunch. The fish she had ordered - her daughter had prepared them for her, I believe, according to the phone conversation I heard - took a long time coming, though, and Fatima was tired after her trip to Cairo, where she had taken care of an ill family member. So, we ate when the fish finally arrived - and they were the best fish I have every eaten! - and then laid down around 4 and went to bed.

By this time, of course, everything was closed; so after our naps, there was just enough time to watch more al-Jazeera, eat a light snack, and then turn into bed early that evening following a brief phone call home.

No pictures of the day, but really, I think it was one of the most memorable.