I awoke in the morning, somewhat unsure of myself - do I try to take a shower, or just brush my teeth? Do I get up before her or what exactly is the protocol for when you wake up in a stranger's house and don't really speak the language?
I ended up awake a few hours before my hostess and straightened the room, got my belongings together, and got dressed, just brushing my teeth and washing my face. Fatima, however, decided I needed a shower; and in truth, I really did. I did my best, though, to clean the black rivulets of grime off her shower once I was finished and I think I was half successful.
She fixed breakfast of bread, eggs, and a tahini hummus dip that we ate while watching Al-Jazeera. We got a cab, which she told to go to the Roman museum - I had told her earlier that I had wanted to see it, but that I was pretty certain that it was closed for renovations, since my guidebook said it was closed in 2009 and I didn't expect anything to have happened too quickly. I was correct.
It was enjoyable driving about the city with a native Iskandrian; for one, she knew how much we should pay for cab fare. It was also fun to see normal life in Egypt, and not be running around as a tourist; she and the taxi driver talked pleasantly as the driver dropped off his other fare. In Egypt (at least, Iskandria), unlike Jordan, more than one person can hail a cab and the other passenger will be picked up if the destinations are near each other.
The day was wet and rainy and getting to the library was a relief, however. Fatima and I wandered about on our own, for a bit, but then she decided that a proper tour was necessary. We ended up with a group of shebaab - that is, there was a group (a school or other youth group, I'm sure) of teenage boys that were going through the library with a tour guide, and we appended ourselves to them. Although the tour guide was official, I'm still not sure if it was an "official" guide or a school guide. However, it was fun to tour with them; the tour guide would physically drag one or two of the young men away to make sure that Fatima and I got in the front row to hear his talk or to look at the surroundings, but the guys were all very well behaved. Unfortunately, however, the guide was of course speaking in Arabic, so my understanding of the presentation was a bit limited. Oh, I got the main idea of the history of the library, how it was founded and how much it cost to build the modern library -and look at those stairs there, and so and so paid this much money for that - but I certainly didn't understand the details. My ability to fake understanding, however, has dramatically increased.
The tour was also lovely because we got to see some parts of the museum that we would've otherwise had to pay an entrance fee for: we saw the history of Alexandria in art and then a room full of things from some movie that a guy from Alexandria made. It was really cool!
There were also several displays of modern art and one of traditional Egyptian/Levant clothing - very beautiful! We then got to tour the Anwar Sadat museum display, which was awesome. It had many of his personal effects, letters to and from him (including several from various U.S. presidents and dignitaries), all his personal office effects, and the clothing he was wearing on the day of his assassination. I was thankful I had taken my History of Jordan class and so was fairly familiar with Sadat's role in the history of the region. Furthermore, it was really cool to be touring it with an elderly Egyptian lady, to whom he was a hero, and given the current political situation in Egypt.
We toured the rest of the library, and then went out to brave the rain. Following a jaunt to the train station to buy my ticket, we returned home for a rest. My time with Fatima was concluded with a trip to KFC, where we ate American style fried chicken and watched haram music videos on their flat-screen while we killed time waiting for the train.
Finally, Fatima decided it was time for us to go to the bus station; I had been doing my best to assure her that I could manage alone, but I don't think she believed me. She accompanied me to the train station, where we sat together, waiting for my train. I enjoyed watching the people pass me by; most of the trains were the third class carriages, which consist of hordes of people crammed together without seats. Fatima explained that the women passing by with the very large bundles on their heads were women returning home from the market.
Just before the train's arrival we said our goodbye's - they were pretty sappy, not going to lie. My Arabic may be limited, but what it lacks in extensive vocabulary, I can definitely make up for in imagination. I pretended I was one of the characters from Calormen in my poetical effusions. At last, the engine groaned into the station and Fatima physically took me by the hand and half ran and half pushed our way through the crowd, making sure I got on safely.
I found my seat, after entering the wrong compartment, and settled into the comfort of the oversized chair to enjoy the 3 hour ride back to Cairo.
We pulled into Ramses Station around 9 that evening; I was thankful I had been there earlier and so knew the lay of the land. Very hungry, I found a tiny koshary stand/restaurant. I scanned the menu quickly and saw "koshary" with all the options of various dressings and sauces. Unsure of myself, I looked around for what I should do. There was a glass counter, with men standing behind it, serving out the dishes; there was a man sitting on a high stool behind an ancient computer, and there was a table or two half-cleared of the previous diner's leavings. I approached the man behind the computer. "Koshary?" I ordered. He gave an amused smile and motioned to a table. A waiter came around to give it a quick swipe and take my order of a small bowl of koshary.
It was a bit cold and dry, but it was edible. I finished it quickly and went to pay. I asked how much it was.
"Thalath genay."
I paused. I had never heard these words before. I blinked at him. "Again?" I asked in Arabic.
He said it slowly. "Thalath genay."
Something clicked in my brain. "Oooooh! Talata genay!" I said, realizing he had said "3 guineas."
He gave another amused smile. An obvious foreigner who doensn't understand simple Arabic is correcting his pronunciation? (I wasn't, of course; it's just that one, I was expecting to hear "lira" for the Egyptian pound, not the genay; two, I'm still not accustomed to the use of "guh" instead of "zhu"; and three, in Jordan, it's generally pronounced "talata" and not thalath, although it is spelled thalath. Anyway.)
I handed him my money, as he asked about where I was from, what my religion was, and why, if I was a Christian, I was wearing abeya. I did my best to answer, but, as we have established, my FusHa is lacking and my Egyptian colloquial is even less. Oh, well. I think I amused him, at any rate.
I wandered about the square, looking for a taxi to take me to my hotel. I had been wanting to stay at a hostel very near the Cairo Gateway where I'd have to go the following day, but decided to please my parents by opting for the much more expensive hotel because the guidebook description of the hostel said that "the approach borders on the post-apocalyptic." And post-apocalyptic is not a street decorating style that I want to encounter at 10pm in the evening alone in Egypt.
After seeing how the taxi worked in Iskandria, and how short of a drive it was from the square to my hotel, I did my best to only pay the driver 3LE instead of the 5 he demanded. I finally gave in, however, again figuring my parents didn't want me arguing about the equivalent of 25 US cents late at night while alone in Egypt. I also figured that my case wasn't really helped by the fact that it was actually a nice hotel and he figured that I could afford it. Grrrr.
I entered the hotel - the architecture from the outside was the same pollution stained beige, but inside it was beautiful - and got my room. He mentioned the price in Euros (really, there are very few American tourists in the ME) and I paused, slightly scared. I didn't have any Euros with me.
"Um, could I pay in Egyptian pounds?" I asked, hesitating. I've never been to a hotel where the price is first given in another currency other than the one of the country.
The attendant gave me an amused smile. "Of course." I guess it was just my night for amusing people.
The bellhop showed me to my room. I amused myself by watching television - most of the channels were in German, which I could understand about as well as Arabic. I then took a shower and nearly met my death.
Now, I've never thought the way I'd die would be death by bathtub; in Egypt, at least, I expected a traffic accident or martyrdom or something a bit more exciting than falling in the tub, but honestly, I think taking that shower was the most dangerous thing I had done in my trip to Egypt. The tub was small, with a severe slope in the back for sitting upon. Somehow, I reached for the soap, slipped on the slope, got my big toe stuck in the round drain, and knocked my head against the wall and slamming my body down against the slope and back of the tiny tub. I'm pretty sure those bruises might be the most permanent souvenir from my trip.
Exhausted and bruised - but finally clean - I retired to fully enjoy my comfortable bed.
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