THAT mother with THOSE kids

With no help from the horrid flight attendants on the Cairo to JKF flight (and I’m sure they felt the same way about us), we made it. I was starting to think maybe all Americans (like, had I maybe just forgotten?) were terrible until our second flight, when the lovely, wonderful flight attendant was so great with the boys and especially Giggle, who was having a very hard time waiting through a long runway taxi.

Now we’re here in College Town, at our friends’ house (they are out of town). It’s perfect and we’re so happy to be here.

More later when I have time.

(Almost) on our way!

My cousin K is back from Luxor and Aswan and her cruise. She found some good folks on the boat and had a great time.

I’m just about packed. Mr. Four is working tonight, and the boys and I are headed out to a movie… then Saturday morning we leave for the airport. At this point I’m so excited my stomach is getting twisty. In a good way.

I’m so very fortunate to have some lovely people as friends, folks who are willing to buy us groceries in advance of our arrival, pick us up at the airport, and drive us around town until we get our own rental on Sunday. I’m looking forward to see them and everyone else.

So I’ll be offline for a few days, and (inshallah) will next post stateside. (And about that inshallah thing… after several months in Egypt, I feel like if I don’t say it, I’m tempting fate! Which I’m not inclined to do hours before boarding a transatlantic flight.)

To candy or not to candy

Mr. Four thinks I shouldn’t bring candy on the plane, because once it’s out the boys are going to want it constantly and will go crazy if they can’t have it.

I’m inclined to bring it, something that’s long-lasting like hard candy, and let them overindulge.

Opinions?

Travel advice, please

I’m leaving for the US in about five weeks (but who’s counting), and I need some advice for our trip.

First, the rental car (or, more specifically, rental mini-van, which seems to be the only vehicle which will accommodate four people with bloated luggage).

Giggle, Bug, and I are scheduled to arrive at the airport near College Town, USA on a weekend night in June at about 9:30pm, so about 3:30am for our Cairo-adjusted bodies. We’ll have been traveling since early that morning, Cairo time. We only have one connection from Cairo to College Town, through New York City, but I’m sure we’ll be zonked, especially me, since Mr. Four isn’t joining us until about a week later and I’ll be on my own with the boys.

Here’s the question. Do I go ahead and pick up the rental car when we arrive at the airport? It’s about 30 minutes from the airport to the place we’re staying in College Town, including some interstate, so I’d be driving that stretch on my own (my first time driving in almost a year). I have never arrived in the US from a trans-Atlantic flight feeling like I was ready to drive, but I could inhale some sugary sodas and push it. Perhaps I’ll be so excited to be in the US that I’ll have some extra energy.

The advantage of getting the car that night is that, once we’re in College Town and have had a good night’s sleep, we can head right out the door to our favorite Family Diner and grocery store. We can start living right away.

The other options are to get a taxi to take us to College Town or to beg a friend to pick us up at the airport. Better in the short term, but then we’d have to get a taxi or friend to take us back to the airport to get the rental car the next day, which would involve schlepping the kids around yet again because I don’t want to leave them, jet lagged and over stimulated, with someone they don’t really know.

Next round: carry-ons.
My boys have each taken two trans-Atlantic flights, and they both did great. However, those flights left at night. This flight leaves in the morning, which means the boys will be wide awake. Giggle will entertain himself by watching every movie and listening to every music station (and he’ll complain bitterly when we have to get off the plane). Bug is less predictable, though generally easier to amuse.

So, what should I bring on the plane to entertain them (keeping in mind I’m limited by what’s available in Cairo)? And, more importantly, what should I bring it in? Should they each have their own backpacks, or will this just be more stuff for me to carry around? And do I bring the large carry-on that only fits overhead but holds lots of stuff? The boys could then drag this one around the airports.

The complicating factor is our short layover in New York City, which means there’s a good chance we’ll miss our connection and end up spending the night in New York (exciting at any other time! but not this one!), without our luggage. So, on the plane, I want to bring at least one full change of clothes for the boys, and something approximating a change of clothes for me. Any carry-on advice, whether about the bag itself or what to put in it, is welcome.

Transporting the children: child carriers.

Last summer, Mr. Four and I brought a lightweight umbrella stroller and the Ergo baby carrier on the plane. Either boy fit in either. What should I bring this year? I don’t think I want to deal with the stroller, and I could get one pretty cheaply in the US. But what about the baby carrier? Either boy could go on my back, backpack-style. What’s easier: one kid on my back and me hauling the luggage? Or two kids walking (or perhaps one being carried) and me hauling the luggage? Or maybe one kid in a stroller?

And, finally, car seats.

Mr. Four and I, in our naivete, brought the boys’ car seats to Cairo. They are now shoved in some corner of our spare room, collecting dust. I definitely won’t bring them onto the plane, but should I bring them back to the US? We’d probably save about $100 or so in car seat rental for the minivan and maybe $50 or so in car seat rental for when we’re at my mom’s house, but they are really bulky, even when they’re in bags to be checked. I was hoping to minimize the amount of luggage I’ll have to deal with when it’s just me with the boys. The distance from the car into the airport, and then from baggage claim to outside, can be the most dreadful part of any trip.

I probably won’t bring the carseats back to Cairo if we bring them to the US, so we could use the luggage space for Fig Newtons and maple syrup and other essentials. Which would mean that if we ever want car seats here, we’re stuck. But that seems unlikely. So, what do you think?

Last question: am I making this complicated or is it complicated all on its own?

Ouch.

Mr. Four was in an accident on Thursday. Specifically, a van backing up hit his bike.

He was wearing a helmet and the side of his body absorbed most of the impact. There was no blood, and mostly he’s fine, but he’s quite sore. He’s very tender on his hip and thigh, and he’s hurting around his ribs. He’s having a hard time standing up quickly, and it hurts him to pick up the boys.

To their credit, once the van did hit him, the driver and others nearby rushed over to make sure he was okay.

Cairo is flat, which makes it seem perfect for bicycling. And the distances in our neighborhood are such that a bike makes perfect since. A lot of places are too far to walk, but too close for a taxi.

But traffic patterns are chaotic, and first come, first in seems to be the rule of merging. And though there are a lot of Egyptians on bikes (like the guys I saw the other day delivering dry cleaning held with one held while he steered with the other), Egyptian drivers don’t really look out for bikes.

Mr. Four is such a trooper though. After the accident, he still bought me flowers for Valentine’s Day (roses from him and carnations from the boys), and then limped home with the flowers in his backpack.

How to make friends with an Egyptian taxi driver

Taxi driver: “Where you from?”

You: “America.”

Taxi driver: “America? George Bush bad.”

You: “Yes, George Bush bad.”

Works every time.

Who put the men in the women’s cars?

The Cairo metro dedicates two cars to women only. The rest are integrated. If I’m with Mr. Four, we ride the integrated cars. If I’m by myself (or with only the boys), I ride the women’s car.

Until, that is, this past week. One morning, as the train pulled into the station, I noticed men on the women’s cars, the first two cars of the train. And it wasn’t just one or two men, but many, on both cars. I boarded the first car, which was about half men and half women. My courtesy Arabic (”good morning,” “thank you,” “tea with milk”) didn’t give me the vocabulary to ask anyone why men were on the women’s car, but at each stop more men boarded. No one else seemed confused. And no women chased off the men (which apparently does happen on the women’s cars).

This wasn’t a problem per se, but incredibly confusing.

No one at work had an explanation (let me re-phrase that: the three people, including one Egyptian, I asked at work didn’t have an explanation) other than that sometimes men go onto the women’s cars when the integrated cars are crowded. I didn’t buy this.

That afternoon, on the way home, I went to platform and saw some other women who seemed confused that men were waiting in the area formerly reserved for women. They chattered away in Arabic and then started walking, purposefully, elsewhere. I followed them and arrived at a new spot with primarily women.

So, that’s how I figured out the women’s cars were moved to the middle of the train. These cars now have huge red and green stickers over the doors. The stickers are mostly meaningless to me as they are in Arabic, but they do have the apparently universal stick figure for women, usually seen on bathroom doors: a woman in a skirt that ends at her knees. Of course, no women in Cairo wear skirts this short, but the sign is clear enough.

I missed the right car again yesterday morning (I hadn’t walked to the proper spot on the platform), but I experienced no harassment on the integrated car I rode, which seemed to have about one hundred men and three women, and the men even tried to give me a little space, which I appreciated. The harassment is a big deal here–I’ll write soon about a woman I know who left Cairo more than a year early because of it–but wasn’t a problem for me.

(A colleague of mine hypothesized that I don’t get harassed because I look old and married: thanks friend!)

For the most part, I enjoy the metro. I like being surrounded by Egyptian women and seeing their clothes, especially the colorful designs and intricate folds of their headscarves. I like the kindness extended to strangers, such as when a woman gave me her prime spot because I carried a large package, or as when a woman gave me a cough drop when I was coughing.

And from my part of town, the metro is faster and much cheaper than a taxi (20 minutes versus 30-45 minutes; 1 LE as compared to 20-25 LE), and more convenient than my employer’s shuttle.

All the same, very few of my colleagues, American or Egyptian, ride the metro. I think perhaps it’s considered lower class but no one has actually said this. People do seem surprised that I ride the metro daily.

In any case, my experience on the car-formerly-known-as-the-women’s-car reminded me of my cultural illiteracy. I really don’t understand a lot of what I see around me here in Cairo. I can figure it out most of the time, but often I am just very confused.

I’m the tall, aloof blond.

In the US, I’m not particularly tall. But here, on the women’s car of the metro, I can see over the heads of most women (it’s a sea of veils).

And in the US, I’m not particularly blond. Here my hair contrasts dramatically with the average Egyptian’s brunette hair.

And in the US, I certainly don’t feel aloof. I make eye contact with strangers and smile at men and women.

Not here. I smile at women if they make eye contact with me, but I avoid looking directly at Egyptian men. I don’t get close enough to touch them. And I certainly don’t talk to them. Why? Because if I did, it might reinforce the notion that they already have of western women: that we’re all whores. Strong language, but so true! This is a country where a woman can get accused of whoredom because her hair is showing. And people here see American women in the movies all the time, and isn’t that how we all are?

Now, none of this is true at work, where I interact comfortably with men and women, veiled and unveiled, Christian and Muslim, but it’s a western dominated environment, where western norms prevail. And at least some of the Egyptian staff seem to appreciate that environment as well.

But when I’m by myself in public, which is a daily experience as I take the metro to and from work, I act differently than I would in the US. I behave more like an Egyptian woman in that I avoid men I don’t know (which is all but about ten people in the entire city).

On the metro, the front two cars are usually reserved for women, who pack in. But one night last week, the second car also had men, who mostly sat at the back of the car, and women, who were mostly at the front. There were constant negotiations on the bench seats. If a man stood up, a woman might sit down, but only if doing so would mean she wasn’t touching another man. And the men and women all scooched to avoid this contact, meaning men were scrunched together and women were scrunched together. A subtle but important dynamic.

Earlier the same day, I got on a crowded elevator that happened to be filled with women. There was still space for one, but the man who was waiting did not get on, perhaps because then he might have touched a woman. There was a veiled woman waiting, and the other women encouraged her to take the free spot. “It’s all girls here,” one said, meaning, we’re crowded, but you won’t touch any men in here.

That night on the metro, on the mixed sex car, I realized I had hardly seen Egyptian men beyond our bowwab (the doorman) and some men at work. And then (perhaps immersed in observation), I missed my stop. Actually, I missed the next few stops too!

I finally got off the train, crossed over, and waited for the next one. I couldn’t get up to the women’s car at the front, so I walked onto a car with several men and one woman, who was fully covered (meaning only her eyes were showing; she was even wearing gloves). So of course I sat down next to hear. And endured the stares. And hoped my seatmate didn’t get off before me, which she didn’t.

I am very conspicuous here. And I’m okay with that. But the women’s car is much more comfortable than the mixed sex cars.

A tale of two taxi drivers

“Are you krees - tee - un?”

I worked late on Thursday, til 9pm, and took a taxi home in lieu of the metro. I hear it’s quite safe even at night, and Cairo is considered a safe place for women to walk alone most times of day or night (you may get verbally harassed, but you won’t get mugged or assaulted), but I decided to forgo experiencing this for myself.

So I hailed a cab downtown, and almost right away the driver asked me, a couple of times, “Are you krees - tee - un?” before I finally understood he was asking me if I was Christian, a pretty safe bet to make of a white foreigner.

But it’s not a question I hear very often, and I was flummoxed. Technically, no. And in the US, I would answer no. But why was this guy asking me this? Because in the sense of how I was raised, I am Christian (Catholic, actually). So, tentatively, I said (much to my own surprise), “Yes.” Then he told me he was Christian.

Ah-ha! He was trying to find common ground. He said something like, “Ramadan no,” and I said, “That’s right. We eat all day.”

He also asked me how much I’d pay for him for the ride. That’s a big no-no in Cairo’s taxi-land. The passenger is expected to know a fair fare (ha ha) for the ride, and that’s what the driver expects to be paid. No meters, no conversation, nothing. I knew a fair price for my ride was about 25LE, or even 18-20LE at non-busy times. So I offered, “20?” I should have been more confident. He said no, so I fussed and grabbed the door handle and said I was getting out. He found this amusing and retorted, “25.” Deal!

That was pretty much the entirety of our conversations. But he was a nice guy. He didn’t know my part of town very well, and I was having a hard time recognizing landmarks in the dark, so we went a round-about way to get to my building. I actually paid him 30LE, about $5.35. Not shockingly generous, but money goes a long way here. And he was a really nice guy. I was glad I fibbed my way through his original question.

Fast forward to Friday night. Our family was invited to a (new) friend’s house for dinner. She lives near us, but in a different area of town. She gave me directions, when usually I just tell the driver our destination. The other complication was that it was just before dusk, meaning just before iftar. Meaning there was a good chance most drivers hadn’t eaten for over twelve hours. The roads were already pretty empty, as most folks were home for iftar, and we felt lucky to get a taxi at all.

In attempting to direct the taxi, however, we got close but missed the street. And, surprisingly, the driver didn’t know how to find the street we wanted, a pretty significant one. He got increasingly frustrated, as did we. We own mobile phones here, but they’re not set up yet (two different processes here), so we had no way of calling our friends for clarification. Plus we couldn’t really talk to the driver. As he grew even more agitated, Mr. Four suggested we got out of the taxi and go home. The driver was a little bit scary.

Finally, we did get out. But not before the driver was swearing and yelling at us. I have never been so glad not to understand a language. His message was coming through loud and clear, even sans details.

I also knew that whatever we paid him (because I had the small bills at that point) would not be enough. So when we were all out of the cab and firmly on the sidewalk, I told Mr. Four to start walking with the kids, and I gave the driver 7LE, a more than fair fare. He yelled and screamed and swore (we recognized some choice English words) and then he drove off.

Ugh. Mr Four and I were a bit stressed. But we finally oriented ourselves and started walking, only to discover we were about two blocks from our friend’s apartment. And they were so great, we got over it. But, wow, I really hope never to see that man again.

Now, I’m going to cheat and tell you about a third driver, the one who attempted to teach me basic navigational Arabic on the short ride from the metro to my house (3LE). I can’t remember any of it now, but he had me practicing left, right, stop, etc. He was an excellent ambassador.