On Becoming a Cairene

It's happening, slowly but surely. I may never become an Egyptian, but I am definitely becoming a Cairene. And yes, that is what a person living in Cairo is called, at least its better than a Cairite. Anyways, I had the big epiphany the other day on the Metro. In the Cairo subway, you have to hold onto the ticket you buy because you will need it to exit the metro at the end, or at least thats the formal rule. In general, the Cairo metro can be pretty lax in terms of enforcing ticket rules. You see people jumping over the turnstiles about as frequently as the trains run, and no one seems to care. The other strategy is to trail someone who does have a ticket, walking closely and sneaking into their rotation of the turnstile, with or without their permission. I have had people try to do this to me, and its an up close and personal experience that I never thought I would initiate. Until last Monday.

On the long train back from the Population Council where I intern, I realized that I had lost my ticket stub. I never lose my ticket stub. I desperately searched my bag, pockets, hair, grasping for the little yellow ticket that I am always so careful to protect. After the fifth unsuccessful dig into my pocket, I accept the fact its gone for good. We reach the Sadat station, I disembark, and begin to roll over my options. I could jump, but that makes a scene. Once in a while you will see officers yelling at jumpers, threatening to pay a ridiculous fine for something that everyone does. I think about trying to go under, but with the afternoon rush I could get trampled. This leaves me the one option that I never thought I would dare to do. I select an unsuspecting younger woman and get behind her as she is about to insert her ticket into the turnstile. I sneak up real close and slide in, grabbing the bar to make sure I make it. Sliding my left hip and then my right into the space, I succeed with relative ease. My spirits sour until my unwilling cohort looks behind her and gives me the dirtiest look I have ever received. I give her a sheepish smile and then hung my head in shame. But my self-loathing was limited, as I quickly reminded myself that my criticizing hero had probably committed the same trick before. I didn't cheat the system as I had paid for my ride. I was just listening to that old proverb..When Cairo, do as the Cairenes do.

Here are some other entertaining examples of how you know you have been in Cairo too long:

1. When I was in Berlin, I found myself in a very small bathroom of a fancy cafe. There was only one sink, and some German woman was busy washing her hands. Not even thinking twice, I barged in and began to share the single stream with her. Needless to say, I quickly remembered that the Germans have a different definition of personal space than Cairenes do.

2. In Barcelona, I repeatedly said "ah ah ah" in a low tone to indicate "yes". This is how Egyptians say "yeh, yeh" or "uh huh..uh uh" to confirm. But in Spain it just sounds like you are imitating a gorilla.

3. I don't question the need to offer my taxi driver some of the peanuts that I am munching on. And he doesn't find it strange to accept my offer. Food is just tastier when you eat it together.

4. I find myself staring slackjawed at the clueless tourist wearing hot pants and halter tops in the middle of downtown Cairo. I have yet to give them a catcall or two, but after my fall from grace in the Metro, you never know what I am capable of.

5. In Cairo, you get someone's attention by hissing or making kissy noises. Seriously. Even old women do it. I can't wait to fly back to the states and start making kissing noises at the flight attendants to ask if I can have some more water.