Stu's visit to Egypt.
09/08/01
I need to adjust to having two roommates. I feel like everything
is a
business transaction. Spending money suddenly requires
consultation. Using
the bathroom requires forethought. I have to wear pants more
often. These
are the little things that you don't think about when you sign a
lease with
two other guys just to save a few pounds.
You never know how personal to get. I feel like we are being
polite to each
other, but not really friendly. We kind of keep to ourselves.
We haven't
had an all night boy talk session and pillow fight, like girls do.
Instead
we have conversations like this:
Stu: Hey.
Craig: What's up?
Ron: Did you see that freaky cab driver? What a riot, man!
Ron is not the most culturally sensitive person in the world. He
originated
in Chicago. This explains his accent, his affection for beer and
his less
than delicate manners. His voice is always two decibels louder
than it needs
to be. I'm a bit surprised at his lack of tact because he
has years of
international experience. He spent six years in Italy. ("Them
guys had good
food, but the beer was lousy.") He taught for two years in
Korea. ("It was
cheaper to eat out than it was to cook, but the beer was crap.")
One of our first exposures to Ron's social graces was when the
three of us
visited the Kahn in downtown Cairo. Kahn, pronounced ‘can',
is Arabic for
bizarre. Which, in this case, can be used as an adjective or a
noun. This
is the largest market in the Middle East except maybe Istanbul's.
This is
where Indiana Jones, while searching for Miriam, shot the guy with the
knives. It is bordered by two of the oldest Mosques in the world.
Non-Muslims aren't even allowed in one of them and you have to
take off your
shoes and wash your feet to enter the other one.
It is ground zero of Egyptian culture. You can buy exotic fruits,
decorative
carpets, or handcrafted brass urns. You can also buy plastic,
miniature
pyramids with your name scrawled on it, toy rubber asps, and "I'm
in the
Kahn" T-shirts. This is why it is called a bizarre.
As soon as we get in the taxi, Ron instructs the driver to stop on the
way so
he can buy some beer. Craig and I politely decline Ron's
offer as he cracks
open a can of Sakara in the backseat. When we get to the Kahn, Ron
leaves an
empty can behind and opens his second. There are easily seven
thousand
people within shouting distance and Ron is, without exception, the only
one
guzzling a can of beer. He is also the only person we see wearing
gym shorts
and an undershirt. On the way past the Mosque he almost trips over
a man
kneeling on a prayer rug as he points at other men wearing turbans.
By this time, Craig and I are keeping our distance. We don't
want to be near
him incase there are government snipers on the rooftops ready to take
out
oblivious Americans. (Craig is Canadian, but you wouldn't
be able to tell
through a riflescope.) Finally, Craig and I decide to say
something to Ron.
We felt embarrassed for him and couldn't ignore it any longer.
When we reached a small eddy in the crowd we turned to him and said,
"Ron,
did you know that was a Mosque back there?" Our hearts sank
when he replied
with a big smile and very loudly, "You bet! Is this place
wild or what!"
Just a footnote. There are many Muslim customs that you need to be
aware of
to fully appreciate this story. First of all, they are a modest,
conservative people. Their "sloppy" is khakis and a
short sleeved dress
shirt. You will never see an Egyptian wear shorts or a T-shirt in
public.
Muslims don't consume alcohol or eat pork. They aren't
loud, obnoxious or
rude. They are happy, proud, friendly, very traditional and easily
embarrassed.