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Published: February 19th 2009
The Search for an Apartment
Apartment-hunting here is something of an art. It takes talent. It takes intuition and charm. It takes a certain je-ne-sais-quoi that I resoundingly don’t have. Three friends I’ve met at orientation and my hostel have decided to try and find a place together, which has been frustrating and unfruitful and has used up more of my brain cells than I care to imagine.
You have a few options on how to find an apartment, all of which we have tried: you can go to a broker, hope that what they show you isn’t overpriced or secretly full of ants (actually, the bug-in-apartment issue here is practically nonexistent compared with places like New York) and hope that the finders fee they charge you isn’t too exorbitant. Technically, you shouldn’t even pay the broker a finder’s fee because the landlord is supposed to do that. Unfortunately, here in the land of I’ll Be As Helpful As You Want As Long As You Tip Me, you need to throw in a little something extra to get things done. It’s not quite a bribe, but what they call “baksheesh,” or a tip. Usually when people ask foreigners for them, it’s 5 times what they’d ask an Egyptian. It’s annoying, but it makes sense if you consider how much poverty Cairo has and how tempting a shiny new foreigner must be to try and sucker. Usually though, if you give them what you know is fair, they’ll take it without a fuss and even treat you with increased respect. Plus, at an exchange rate of 5.5 to 1, it’s hardly expensive to you but makes a big difference to them. I still pay the Egyptian rate wherever I can, but it’s not the worst thing in the world if I have them 10 pounds (2 dollars) extra than is fair.
The second apartment hunting option, the more hit-or-miss but often more exhilerating, is to go bowab-hopping. A bowab is a door man/jack-of-all-trades who watches over the building for the owner. They’re often quite nice, have very few teeth, even less English, and are happy to go and get you some eggs if you need them, help you carry a heavy bag, fix a crooked picture, etc. They’re also great to practice Arabic with, usually very patient and amused by my attempts. In terms of looking for an apartment, what we did was walk around a neighborhood we liked, looked for the prettiest buildings, and go in and ask the bowab if there were any free apartments. Apparently, this can be similar to waltzing up 5th Avenue in New York and asking if the penthouse is available. In Middle English. (Since my colloquial - “ ‘ameyya” - Arabic classes haven’t started yet, I’m still using my classical Arabic, which is rusty enough, never mind the fact that only the educated class really understands it, let alone toothless bowabs).
Where we didn’t get results in most of the places we asked for, what the bowab would do is take us traipsing all over the neighborhood to all of his bowab buddies who he knew had extra apartments and show us those. This didn’t actually find us an apartment, but we did make friends with a bowab named Gat. But then he rained on my “wow Egyptians are just so nice and this guy is so helpful and friendly!" Parade by asking for a tip, which we were still too naïve to realize wasn’t appropriate considering we didn’t actually find a place we wanted.
It was a bit depressing at first when it seemed like Egyptians would only be nice as long as they could squeeze some money out of me. I once went into a perfume oil shop and chatted and bickered amicably with the owner until he let me buy only one bottle instead of 8, after which point he ignored me for 5 silent, awkward minutes while we waited for his assistant to bring change. But having been here a little while, I’m beginning to see the shades of grey in Egyptian hospitality, which I’ve now discovered to be very affectionate and genuine. I’ve met several Egyptian students and locals who are so warm and eager to help or host or provide a resource or come along apartment-hunting to make sure we don’t get cheated. A couple of other study abroad students and I went out with an Egyptian friend last night who insisted on paying, citing “Egyptian hospitality, Egyptian hospitality” every time we protested. For as much catcalling as there is towards women, there are just as many shouts of “Welcome to Egypt!” and “America! Oooobaaammaaa!!” (often accompanied by a fist pump or small jig) as I walk down the street.
Wolf Whistles, Cat Calls, and Other Sweet Nothings
Egyptian catcalling deserves a place in the Wolf Whistler’s Hall of Fame. I think that they must take Egyptian boys aside in middle school and give them a list of catchy and snazzy phrases to either holler or whisper seductively at foreign women as they pass. It’s an art form perfected by men between the ages of 7 - ancient, and they warm up by making the sorts of noises at me that I would typically use to summon a horse. “chh-chh-chh!” and “kss kss ksssss” and other noises that would be quite at home in a Star Wars movie.
Then they progress to snappy little phrases - all intoned with a hilariously unintentional Borat accent. I’ve gotten things as innocent as “ooh ooh, so much woman!” and “Shakira, Shakira!” to things like “mmm, lucky lucky man!” (as I wagged my be-ringed ring finger at a group of overly saucy teenagers) and “I kill my wife for you…” (whispered longingly by a grizzly old falafel-seller) to things as creatively suggestive as “you be my Sunday through Tuesday wife, yes please!” and “I like, I like - for how many camels can I have her?” asked towards a male friend I was walking with. It’s usually pretty harmless and pretty hilarious. And it’s not even only towards foreign women. A male friend of mine has a shaved head - apparently unheard of in Egypt - and has experienced everything from “nice hair, Chinese!” (he’s Jewish) to totally unabashed head-petting by passerby.
Physical contact has an interesting role in Egypt. Affection between men is completely common. Every group of men I see walking by is either holding hands, arm-in-arm, or has their arms over one another’s shoulders. (When I first got into Cairo, in my quasi-drugged, jet-lagged stupor, one of the first half-formed thoughts that floated into my head was “wow, they’re so gay-friendly here!” before I remembered that I was in fact in Egypt.) PDA is less common between men and women (kissing in public being unheard of), but I do see couples holding hands or sitting closely together on park benches.
Touchy-feeliness between men, though, is just off-the-charts. The same friend who gets his head groped seems to be a magnet for arm squeezes, pats on the bum, and one memorable time, a big kiss on the back of his shaved head. And all of this is done with the greatest of sincerity too, by coffee shop owners or people we ask for directions or just people who think he looks squeezable. Women too are usually walking hand-in-hand. Seeing so many men or women walking comfortably arm in arm is really very sweet; it’s nicely demonstrative of the close-knit nature of the Egyptian people one hears about. It’s a different sort of PDA than I’m used to seeing from couples, it’s true, but it’s interesting and also just plain nice to see people in Cairo able to comfortably express camaraderie and affection. Can you imagine seeing that in New York or Boston?
Sun, Shade, and Headscarves
It’s comforting to have other foreigners to experience and laugh and talk about these kinds of things with. If not, I think it would be easy to let this get overwhelming. Walking alone feels just fine, but there’s no reprieve from stares and comments, which gets to be stressful. It’s always nicer walking with a guy, because then people assume that you’re married and leave you alone (Well, with most of the comments. There’s still staring, staring, staring) and it’s much easier and more comfortable. I’ve been covering my hair when walking alone though, especially in the more traditional parts of town. It’s not necessary, as I do see Egyptian women with uncovered hair (mostly Coptic Christians) fairly frequently. But I sometimes feel less abrasive with my hair covered, both for cultural modesty’s sake and to lessen the attention I get. The only really necessary covering is to just dress modestly, as people consider it distasteful to show skin. I’ve mainly been wearing long, loose button-down cotton shirts with jeans if it’s cool, or ankle-length cotton or linen skirts when it’s warm. The long, light clothing actually keeps you marvelously cool in the sun, so I don’t mind covering up in the slightest. Wearing a scarf over my hair actually helps keep cool, I’ve been finding, since the sun can’t broil my head directly. It’s shocking to feel the difference between the coolness of the shade and the huge, face-numbing blast of heat you feel when you step out into the sun. The nights are surprisingly (and annoyingly) cool, getting down to 50 degrees. Apparently the reason for this is that sand is a very receptive conductor of heat as it absorbs sunlight, but loses it very quickly when the sun sets. But I'll be regretting these exact words as I'm slowly roasting like a rotisserie chicken next month on our hot, stone, desert-centric campus.
Headscarves also have an interestingly huge role in a non-religious as well as a religious way, I’m finding. Back home, much of the general impression of headscarves in the Middle East is that they reduce freedom of self expression - but I’ve been finding it to be quite the opposite. For Egyptian Muslim women, what they lack in hairstyle expression they make up for in every other way. They’re like these bright butterflies that flutter around with their glittering, patterned hijabs (headscarves), elaborate makeup, and long, layered, jewel-colored dresses that drape around them so elegantly. Young Egyptian women are even more dauntingly impressive, flaunting designer brands, huge sunglasses, and Grace Kelly-esque headscarves with such graceful candor that I occasionally find myself thinking that, "hmm, maybe marrying an oil sheik wouldn't be so bad..." as I schlump by, oafish in comparison with my bland linen pants and button-downs. Scarves are ten-a-penny in markets though, so I’ve been accumulating them as bright additions to my otherwise drab image. You'll all be getting them as gifts when I get back - be forewarned.
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Book Title
I'm not sure which will be the better book title for you adventures: "Two Balconies and a View of the Nile" (as Scott suggested) or "You May Be My Sunday Through Tuesday Wife." Keep writing - and add pictures! Thanks for sharing all of your impressions and observations.