Am I Really in Egypt?
From the second that I found out that I would be going to Egypt, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to really believe it until I was there. True to my prediction, it still hadn’t really sunk in until I was on the airplane taking off from JFK Airport and the flight attendant began speaking in Arabic. Then the man seated beside me chatted casually with a man across the aisle in Arabic. Though I’ve studied Arabic for about a year now, only then did it seem to become a living thing. Making our descent over Cairo, angular buildings of every shade of gold seemed to continue indefinitely across the landscape. I even get a glimpse of the Nile.
Stepping down from the airplane I’m excited about seeing the smallest things. Like the signs for Cairo International Airport, which are in both English and Arabic.
Then palm trees. Being from Michigan, where of course there aren’t any, they seem almost unreal. Like something from a movie set in a scene with rolling sands and clear waters.
And then sand. In places where I would expect at home to see dirt and spans of spiky grass, I see sand.
Inside of the airport, the swarms of people talking and milling around us move assuredly to gates and people waiting anxiously for them, while my group stands hesitantly at first in the middle of the floor. Signs above that I can’t understand give directions in Arabic, with English (fortunately) underneath, yet even though I’m excited, I still have feelings of uncertainty and almost unease.
I’ve been in Cairo for five days yet I continue to be completely overwhelmed. By constant honking on the streets, the sounds of Arabic in the pulsing crowds everywhere, aromas from street vendors selling taamiya (falafel) and even business signs written in the curling script of Arabic. As this is my first time being abroad, it’s also my first time having the experience of being foreign. One of the things that I wouldn’t have guessed that I would miss is anonymity. Whereas I’m used to going unnoticed in crowds, here I constantly feel on display and very separate. The fact that I speak little of the language makes me feel even more as if I’m unconnected to the world around me. Even with the Arabic that I do know, it's difficult both to understand and be understood. Often I feel that I get neither. I think language is something that I previously took for granted.
As unsettling as those things may be, it makes it even better when things happen that renew my sense of wonder and awe of being here and make me want to dive in and try to expose myself to as much as possible. Like I manage to hold a conversation with a random person I meet at a bookstore or the vendor at the fruit stand nearby. Starting to know our way around our neighborhood. Drinking the strong, almost silty coffee (or ahwa in Egyptian Arabic) in cafes. Being able to barter with a taxi driver. Taking a boat ride along the Nile. Ordering something at a restaurant in Arabic when I have no clue what it is, but enjoying it (even if I am sorry for it later). Foul, for instance? Practically Egypt’s national dish, this is made with fava beans, sometimes topped with egg, and reminds many people of refried beans. But is much better than it sounds!
We start teaching English and taking Arabic classes tomorrow, which will probably lead to, in the long run, experiencing, viewing and participating in Cairo differently, so I’m anxious to start. I’m certain that the days will become even more hectic, but such it seems is Cairo.