The Drive Back to Israel and Overall Impressions of Egypt

...And this time, I didn't take a bedouin taxi back to the border.

On the drive from Taba to Cairo, Canada told us we could take an air conditioned bus for 70 pounds (about $15) that stops once for a half hour on our return ride. I took his advice. I thought I'd be nervous going alone, as traveling alone in the Sinai is...not safe. But it was fine. A kid from Redlands sat down next to me on the bus. At that point I knew everything would be ok.

I left not knowing what to think about Egypt. In discussing the country, James made a good point: it is a place of contradictions. Egyptians can be extremely hospitable, but also liable to engage in huge fights. We saw fights break out in the middle of roads. On road sides. In restaurants. And yet, when the four of us struggled to find our way from the bus to train station, an Egyptian university graduate took us under his wing, taking us to a metro stop, buying us tickets, and accompanying us all the way to the train station without any expectation of recompense.

Another site: at our second hotel, a fully-covered woman in black (we saw the slits of her eyes...that's it), and her husband, dressed in jeans, a short-sleeved t-shirt, a baseball cap, and sunglasses. What?

It is a place where women are expected to cover up, and yet every commercial, pop musician, and billboard features scantily-clad women.

I've been asked about the veil. I don't know what to think. It can be beautiful. It can be a fashion statement. It can be comical, seeing veiled women with heavy (stage-like) makeup on their faces. It can be haunting - ghost-like when you see a fully-covered woman in black walking in the streets at nighttime.  But I'm not ready to write a politically-charged opinion article about the topic - not yet.

There are many things I don't understand about Egypt, a function of the fact that I don't speak Arabic and don't live in the country. Egypt is a place you can't fully understand until you live there, methinks. And I have no intention of living there anytime soon. Too exhausting. I also think my personality is far too strong for a place like Cairo. I felt like one of the boys when I was there. I didn't feel like I should be covering up, staying inside, keeping my opinions to myself. I felt like I should be on those bridges with all the other men, laughing and playing music and spending my night in good company. Maybe I'm wrong; maybe it's all in my head,that I'm deferring to other peoples' experiences, that I could do everything the boys can do, that I could be valued and respected and treated as an equal without facing harassment on the streets. But frankly, I sort of doubt it.

Two habits I understand infinitely better after visiting Cairo and (later) Petra: hawking and singing! Baba Latif, my grandfather, has mastered both arts. He will 'clear his throat' as much as he wants, whenever he wants, as loudly as he wants. It is not attractive. But in Cairo, a lot of people (Arabs, Westerners, whoever) do the same thing - not to be rude, but because the pollution is so terrible. And because everyone smokes.  I wonder - if you grow up in a seriously polluted place such as Cairo, maybe that becomes habit? Part of the culture? It's my guess, and it may be a bad one, but it's worth a shot.

The singing. Wahahahaha. Baba Latif will randomly start singing Arabic tunes as much as he wants, whenever he wants, as loudly as he wants. It is more attractive than the hawking, but bizarre and slightly inappropriate at times. However, it is very, very common in Arab countries. Hey, guys, maybe I found my home after all - a place where I can start singing random (Israeli children's/jazz/Aretha Franklin) songs without judgment! Amazing!

Overall, mixed feelings. I'm so glad I went; it was an amazing education (not to mention a great visa in my passport). :) I've always itched to see Arab culture - between my dad's family history and studying the region in college, it was about time that I see an Arab country for my own eyes, with my own perspective and own experiences. Now, I have ownership of an experience. My experience. But it didn't resonate with me like it did with James, who is now somewhat convinced that he lived a past life in the Arab world.  He could stay there for months on end.  For me, a few days was enough.