Amazing Egypt
Created | Updated Oct 4, 2012
My wife Lesya and son Timothy and I do a lot of traveling -- we're now in Cairo, where we've been living for almost two years -- and we're big fans of the Hitchhiker's Guide books, so we decided to sign up and share our experiences with fellow Hitchhikers. We also occasionally write down observations and travel tips about life, the universe and everything, like these tidbits about life in Egypt:
Kevin Covert
Cairo, Egypt
March 2002
Some Amazing Things About Egypt
Here are some things I never imagined I would see, but now come across pretty regularly, and in fact am no longer astonished by:
Driving. I am always amazed to see four or five lanes of streaming traffic intersecting all at once with a chaotic but careful choreography. Donkey carts jostling with Mercedes Benzes for position and right of way. The law of the nose: if the nose of my car is just ahead of your car, that means I have the right to swerve in front of you, cut you off, turn from the far right lane across 3 lanes of traffic to make a sudden left turn. That's one of my favorite moves. The other one is driving at night. What's up with the national campaign to save the light filaments in the headlights? Turn the lights ON for crying out loud. I love it when black cars glide noiselessly at night through a 4-way stop (with no stop sign of course) and no headlights! Gomer says, Watch out o'er there! And the streets are so incredibly narrow you'd think a pedestrian couldn't squeeze through, but then here comes a big ole Expedition cruising through the eye of the needle. One trick I've learned is to fold my side mirrors in when I park -- that little bit of space can make a difference. And don't even get me started on the horn honking. Like a gaggle of geese flying south for the winter. They actually talk to each other using the horn: Hey, How's it going, ya Ahmed? Kwayis, il hamdulilah. But some idiot keeps flashing his headlights at me. Uh. Damn foreigners.
Pedestrians. These folks would scare the hell out of Evel Knievel. They have no fear, or common sense, or instinct for self-preservation. Candidates for the annual Darwin Award, all of them. It's like a real-life game of Frogger. I am always amazed to see how they will dart out across a major highway like the Nile Corniche: 4 or 5 lanes of speeding reckless jalopies, just to get to the median, where they do the same thing for cars going the other direction. NOTHING on the other side of that road is worth that trip, which people here make every day, several times a day, sometimes carrying infants slung over their shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Lewis & Clark had it easy compared to a pedestrian in Cairo.
The Pyramids. Every day on the way home from work, I check to make sure they're still there. Sometimes the fog and smog make them disappear, but I'm usually reassured the next day that nobody packed them off in a suitcase and took them to the British Museum or anything. I am constantly amazed when the sun sets over the Nile and the lower horizon burns with a dull, orange, earthy haze. It's the perfect backdrop for the twin tips of Khufu and Khefre (only two of the three great pyramids in Giza are visible from the Nile).
Softball. Following the pyramids is a tough act and playing softball in Cairo is no comparison to riding a camel around the Sphinx, but it sure is a lot of fun and a welcome distraction from the pressures and politics of this project. There's a real homerun fence, two umps per game, an electronic scoreboard, pinstriped uniforms, a playground (and rusty lawn tractors) for the kids, a snack bar, and cold beer after the game. Sweet home, Alabama! Our team, the Raytheon Hawks, is an uninspiring collection of middle-aged wannabees and neverbeens. We're all dads with respectable day jobs but when we get together there is no doubt that we're a team with no fear, no shame and no natural talent. We amazed ourselves by going 15-3 last season to take the CASL B League title for the first time in the Hawks’ 10-year history. We came on strong in the season-ending tournament as well, winning three games in a row on the last day (including two in a row against a strong General Motors team called the Wildmen) to win the tourney. I love chasing fly balls on a Friday afternoon as the call to prayer resounds off the brick wall of the mosque behind left field. Ain't nothin like it.
Church. We go to the Holy Family Catholic Church in Maadi. It's a small, quiet church with a nice courtyard, towering imperial palm trees, a Portuguese priest whose English is more passionate than comprehensible, a moody German Shepherd, a cage of parrots, an outdoor altar (won't see THAT in Kyiv!), and a small army of kids from Sudan who hang out near the church like it's their own home (which in a way it is), laughing and teasing and running around like kids do all over the world. Except that these kids are clichés: the "war-torn refugees" you read about. Still, I wouldn't be surprised to see them playing stick ball one day near the brownstones of Brooklyn. In addition to all that, I find it amazing to think that Jesus, Mary and Joseph were HERE, on this earth, in this place, real people praying to God just like we're doing. I also like to drive by the church that's on one of the islands in the Nile near Maadi. It is so incongruous, this small, isolated building sitting on marshland, surrounded by water, time and Islam.
Shopping. First of all, there's nothing to buy. I find that amazing. I mean, there are (what day is today?) 67 million people living here and there must be 10 million in the middle class. They have NEEDS. I have needs. I want my Banana Republic shirts, my Structure jeans, my Kenneth Cole shoes, and my Ben & Jerrys ice cream. (Too "ugly American"?) OK, I'll settle for local knock-offs, but even they're not easy to find. There really is an art to shopping in Cairo. You've got to carry out strategic strikes. If you know where to go, you'll make out fine, but it takes time to survey the territory. I remember our first visit to the Maadi Grand Mall, which doesn't exactly live up to its name. We've since come to appreciate and even rely on the MGM (custom framing, sporting goods) but initially we were shocked: four towering, majestic floors, a glass elevator, a food court, escalators, and nothing but junk all around. Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. Each floor is an exact replica of the one below. There are cheap (as in shoddy) shoes, baby clothes, tourist trinkets, Chinese toys, baubles and beads, and the odd game room where I can take Timmy to let him ride on a motorcycle or sit behind the wheel (one nice thing about taking a two-year old to an arcade: he doesn't notice if you don't put money in the machine). I guess the good news is that we rarely go crazy and buy things we had no intention of buying (which is the secret single purpose of the American mall).
American junk food. What is it with the fascination Egyptians have for American junk food? This place is like a fast food hall of fame. There's an Applebees, a Chili's, a.Friday's, a Kenny Rogers Rotisserie Chicken (I didn't even know there was such a restaurant) and a damn Fuddrucker's. Can I say that?
The resorts. Egypt has some of the most beautiful sites and cities in the world, no doubt about it. El Gouna, Ain Sokhna, Sharm el Sheikh, Luxor. The Nile cruise is truly a trip in time and we just saw a sunset in Aswan that would shame Sarasota.
The Arabic language. Lesya and I have this theory that there's some super secret counsel that convenes once a quarter to think up new tricks and rules of grammar designed to confuse foreigners and protect the language from the infiltration of infidels. Think about it.
Security guards. I love watching the regular Ahmeds on the street corner, hanging their heads in sleep or boredom, munching refried beans, fiddling with their M-16s. Just like home (if you're from Southeast DC).
Ritual greetings. When a secretary transfers a call to me, she asks about my health, the family, my parents, the Orioles spring training roster moves, etc., and by the time I get the call, the guy's gone.
Haggling. I'm convinced the stereotype about the Middle East merchant was born at the Khan Khalili. Ever see the Life of Brian? "Two for this? You must be mad!" Watch that before you go to the Khan and you'll save 25% on everything. Course, you're still getting fleeced, but you'll have more fun. And when you get back to the States, try out your new skills at the local Target or Wall-Mart. Advanced students can apply to Kevin Covert's two-week Master Haggler home study course. More about that later. (That joke was stolen from Steve Martin, who promised to mention me in his next book if I put in a good word for him).
PDAs. Grown men -- some of whom are carrying semi-automatic weapons -- often walk down the street, arm in arm, or hand in hand. I am not making this up. But they're just "friends" (don't kiss, don't tell), while my wife and I get yelled at by a taxi driver if I put my arm around her shoulder.
Children. Egyptians absolutely LOVE kids. They adore them. Especially your kids. We were terrified when we first arrived with Timmy. He was then 4 months old and we, being first-time parents, were a little apprehensive about total strangers dressed in dirt swooping down and sweeping him up with the same hands they just used to dig a toilet. Talk about over-reacting! We've since learned not to panic. But we still do tend to get nervous if the vegetable man doesn't bring him back by midnight.
Hamas de-ay. I am obsessive about being on time. Ask Lesya about our first trip to Moscow, which also happened to be the first time she met the parents. We all went shopping at the GUM shopping mall and Lesya ran off for a minute to buy something she saw earlier, while my parents and I waited outside in Red Square. When she got back, about 10 minutes after we had agreed to meet, I said nothing, but I gave her a look that would scare a snowflake, turned and pointed to the clock on the Kremlin. Oh, we laugh about that to this day. Ha! Who would have thought the most famous clock in the Soviet Union is fast? Those Kremlin guys are such jokers. But I digress. What I really meant to say was that Arabs are not quite as concerned as I am about being on time. For example, when the plumber says he'll be back in five minutes ("hamas de-ay"), you can either get your galoshes or move, because he really means Wednesday.
Kevin Covert
Cairo, Egypt
March 2002
Some Amazing Things About Egypt
Here are some things I never imagined I would see, but now come across pretty regularly, and in fact am no longer astonished by:
Driving. I am always amazed to see four or five lanes of streaming traffic intersecting all at once with a chaotic but careful choreography. Donkey carts jostling with Mercedes Benzes for position and right of way. The law of the nose: if the nose of my car is just ahead of your car, that means I have the right to swerve in front of you, cut you off, turn from the far right lane across 3 lanes of traffic to make a sudden left turn. That's one of my favorite moves. The other one is driving at night. What's up with the national campaign to save the light filaments in the headlights? Turn the lights ON for crying out loud. I love it when black cars glide noiselessly at night through a 4-way stop (with no stop sign of course) and no headlights! Gomer says, Watch out o'er there! And the streets are so incredibly narrow you'd think a pedestrian couldn't squeeze through, but then here comes a big ole Expedition cruising through the eye of the needle. One trick I've learned is to fold my side mirrors in when I park -- that little bit of space can make a difference. And don't even get me started on the horn honking. Like a gaggle of geese flying south for the winter. They actually talk to each other using the horn: Hey, How's it going, ya Ahmed? Kwayis, il hamdulilah. But some idiot keeps flashing his headlights at me. Uh. Damn foreigners.
Pedestrians. These folks would scare the hell out of Evel Knievel. They have no fear, or common sense, or instinct for self-preservation. Candidates for the annual Darwin Award, all of them. It's like a real-life game of Frogger. I am always amazed to see how they will dart out across a major highway like the Nile Corniche: 4 or 5 lanes of speeding reckless jalopies, just to get to the median, where they do the same thing for cars going the other direction. NOTHING on the other side of that road is worth that trip, which people here make every day, several times a day, sometimes carrying infants slung over their shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Lewis & Clark had it easy compared to a pedestrian in Cairo.
The Pyramids. Every day on the way home from work, I check to make sure they're still there. Sometimes the fog and smog make them disappear, but I'm usually reassured the next day that nobody packed them off in a suitcase and took them to the British Museum or anything. I am constantly amazed when the sun sets over the Nile and the lower horizon burns with a dull, orange, earthy haze. It's the perfect backdrop for the twin tips of Khufu and Khefre (only two of the three great pyramids in Giza are visible from the Nile).
Softball. Following the pyramids is a tough act and playing softball in Cairo is no comparison to riding a camel around the Sphinx, but it sure is a lot of fun and a welcome distraction from the pressures and politics of this project. There's a real homerun fence, two umps per game, an electronic scoreboard, pinstriped uniforms, a playground (and rusty lawn tractors) for the kids, a snack bar, and cold beer after the game. Sweet home, Alabama! Our team, the Raytheon Hawks, is an uninspiring collection of middle-aged wannabees and neverbeens. We're all dads with respectable day jobs but when we get together there is no doubt that we're a team with no fear, no shame and no natural talent. We amazed ourselves by going 15-3 last season to take the CASL B League title for the first time in the Hawks’ 10-year history. We came on strong in the season-ending tournament as well, winning three games in a row on the last day (including two in a row against a strong General Motors team called the Wildmen) to win the tourney. I love chasing fly balls on a Friday afternoon as the call to prayer resounds off the brick wall of the mosque behind left field. Ain't nothin like it.
Church. We go to the Holy Family Catholic Church in Maadi. It's a small, quiet church with a nice courtyard, towering imperial palm trees, a Portuguese priest whose English is more passionate than comprehensible, a moody German Shepherd, a cage of parrots, an outdoor altar (won't see THAT in Kyiv!), and a small army of kids from Sudan who hang out near the church like it's their own home (which in a way it is), laughing and teasing and running around like kids do all over the world. Except that these kids are clichés: the "war-torn refugees" you read about. Still, I wouldn't be surprised to see them playing stick ball one day near the brownstones of Brooklyn. In addition to all that, I find it amazing to think that Jesus, Mary and Joseph were HERE, on this earth, in this place, real people praying to God just like we're doing. I also like to drive by the church that's on one of the islands in the Nile near Maadi. It is so incongruous, this small, isolated building sitting on marshland, surrounded by water, time and Islam.
Shopping. First of all, there's nothing to buy. I find that amazing. I mean, there are (what day is today?) 67 million people living here and there must be 10 million in the middle class. They have NEEDS. I have needs. I want my Banana Republic shirts, my Structure jeans, my Kenneth Cole shoes, and my Ben & Jerrys ice cream. (Too "ugly American"?) OK, I'll settle for local knock-offs, but even they're not easy to find. There really is an art to shopping in Cairo. You've got to carry out strategic strikes. If you know where to go, you'll make out fine, but it takes time to survey the territory. I remember our first visit to the Maadi Grand Mall, which doesn't exactly live up to its name. We've since come to appreciate and even rely on the MGM (custom framing, sporting goods) but initially we were shocked: four towering, majestic floors, a glass elevator, a food court, escalators, and nothing but junk all around. Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink. Each floor is an exact replica of the one below. There are cheap (as in shoddy) shoes, baby clothes, tourist trinkets, Chinese toys, baubles and beads, and the odd game room where I can take Timmy to let him ride on a motorcycle or sit behind the wheel (one nice thing about taking a two-year old to an arcade: he doesn't notice if you don't put money in the machine). I guess the good news is that we rarely go crazy and buy things we had no intention of buying (which is the secret single purpose of the American mall).
American junk food. What is it with the fascination Egyptians have for American junk food? This place is like a fast food hall of fame. There's an Applebees, a Chili's, a.Friday's, a Kenny Rogers Rotisserie Chicken (I didn't even know there was such a restaurant) and a damn Fuddrucker's. Can I say that?
The resorts. Egypt has some of the most beautiful sites and cities in the world, no doubt about it. El Gouna, Ain Sokhna, Sharm el Sheikh, Luxor. The Nile cruise is truly a trip in time and we just saw a sunset in Aswan that would shame Sarasota.
The Arabic language. Lesya and I have this theory that there's some super secret counsel that convenes once a quarter to think up new tricks and rules of grammar designed to confuse foreigners and protect the language from the infiltration of infidels. Think about it.
Security guards. I love watching the regular Ahmeds on the street corner, hanging their heads in sleep or boredom, munching refried beans, fiddling with their M-16s. Just like home (if you're from Southeast DC).
Ritual greetings. When a secretary transfers a call to me, she asks about my health, the family, my parents, the Orioles spring training roster moves, etc., and by the time I get the call, the guy's gone.
Haggling. I'm convinced the stereotype about the Middle East merchant was born at the Khan Khalili. Ever see the Life of Brian? "Two for this? You must be mad!" Watch that before you go to the Khan and you'll save 25% on everything. Course, you're still getting fleeced, but you'll have more fun. And when you get back to the States, try out your new skills at the local Target or Wall-Mart. Advanced students can apply to Kevin Covert's two-week Master Haggler home study course. More about that later. (That joke was stolen from Steve Martin, who promised to mention me in his next book if I put in a good word for him).
PDAs. Grown men -- some of whom are carrying semi-automatic weapons -- often walk down the street, arm in arm, or hand in hand. I am not making this up. But they're just "friends" (don't kiss, don't tell), while my wife and I get yelled at by a taxi driver if I put my arm around her shoulder.
Children. Egyptians absolutely LOVE kids. They adore them. Especially your kids. We were terrified when we first arrived with Timmy. He was then 4 months old and we, being first-time parents, were a little apprehensive about total strangers dressed in dirt swooping down and sweeping him up with the same hands they just used to dig a toilet. Talk about over-reacting! We've since learned not to panic. But we still do tend to get nervous if the vegetable man doesn't bring him back by midnight.
Hamas de-ay. I am obsessive about being on time. Ask Lesya about our first trip to Moscow, which also happened to be the first time she met the parents. We all went shopping at the GUM shopping mall and Lesya ran off for a minute to buy something she saw earlier, while my parents and I waited outside in Red Square. When she got back, about 10 minutes after we had agreed to meet, I said nothing, but I gave her a look that would scare a snowflake, turned and pointed to the clock on the Kremlin. Oh, we laugh about that to this day. Ha! Who would have thought the most famous clock in the Soviet Union is fast? Those Kremlin guys are such jokers. But I digress. What I really meant to say was that Arabs are not quite as concerned as I am about being on time. For example, when the plumber says he'll be back in five minutes ("hamas de-ay"), you can either get your galoshes or move, because he really means Wednesday.
