Our friend invited us to the wedding in Cairo in the middle of November. We started planning our trip a few weeks in advance, and the planning itself has a fine line: to be prepared for some things but not to overdo it so nothing surprises you during the trip. So I looked at how we should be dressed (especially girls) and some of the must-sees. I learned that the great pyramids are not the only place to learn about ancient Egypt, so we booked a one-day tour to Saqqara, Memphis, and the pyramids. For the clothing, the general rule is to have legs and at least shoulders covered.
When we landed in Cairo and were waiting for Uber, my only thought was, “I’m not going to sit in a car that doesn’t have seatbelts.” The car had them, but a few days later, every time we got Uber with seatbelts, we were so happy regardless of how old or dirty the car was. And if the driver was holding a wheel with at least one hand and was not looking at the phone all the time, we could give him five stars (I found out that you can hold the wheel with just knees when moving slowly).
We spent in a car most of the time when we were out exploring the city. Cairo’s traffic can be its own attraction and quite a shocking experience for the European tourist. The amount of cars, how people drive, how adults and children cross the highway without crosswalks and without waiting for cars to stop, the quality of the air, and honking. Honking seems to be the most important feature of the car (even in metro trains or airport carts). It is also Cairo’s main melody. You hear it from the first prayer until you go to bed.
When you are in the car, you can observe Egyptian culture. You can see how people adjusted to the chaos on the road. Here’s a 7-year-old holding his two younger sisters and walking along the busy road because there’s no sidewalk. We see old men sitting in chairs the same age along the road, doing nothing, the dogs napping in the parking spots. Here's the donley passing, loaded with hay; on top of it sits a rider. We’re driving a bridge uphill, and the teenage boy is cycling by; on his head, he wears a long bread tray, but now empty, he balances the tray without holding it, like it’s just a hat. Here’s a family of 4 riding a motorcycle; the toddler is in the front, and the older kid is at the back, holding a bag with bread. No helmets, of course, if you’re curious. Microbuses pick up and drop off passengers in places you would never guess that this is a bus stop; the doors are always open, and the driver is always counting money behind the wheel.
This chaos takes all of the energy of an unadjusted person. In Uber, I sit at the back, look at the reflection in the side mirror, and see Sasha’s face: red from the sun and tense from what he sees. But this is the only stressed face I see. Locals look relaxed, and I try to, too. But often I need to recover from each ride in some quiet place.
Besides loud honking, there’s another substance you cannot escape: the air. After cold and fresh air in Stockholm, the air in Cairo suffocates. A small percentage of oxygen is mixed with exhaust emissions and dust. Dust, of course, because we are in a desert. The building and the trees are covered in dust. We brought sandals with us (it’s 25 degrees!), but they were useless for walking sidewalks covered in dust and dirt.
For the first few days, the only feeling I had was resistance. It was physically and mentally hard to move through the day and be curious about this place and its culture. I wanted to return to Stockholm, to my work in a quiet office, to dark days and cold but clean air. But I adjusted, too.
Cairo is a hard place to live. Even if you’re rich, there’s nowhere to escape the dirt, noise, poverty, pollution, and too many people (22 million). But exactly people is what this place is about. A few locals told us that Cairo is a safe place, and the only thing you must be aware of is taxi drivers asking higher prices for the ride (that’s why we were ordering Uber). Most people are nice, friendly, and generous. I smiled at Egyptians, and they smiled back; even in full hijabs, I could see women smiling back with their eyes. Random people helped us find direction or cross the road; the Uber driver bought us waffles, that a seller was selling in the middle of the highway; the fruit seller gave our daughter a banana, just because. Our Egyptian friend’s family, whom we visited for the wedding, made us feel like guests of honor.
Visiting Cairo was surprisingly refreshing. It helped me appreciate not only my life and the place where I live but also my problems. These are good problems to have. It was also a good experience for our daughter. She could see that life is not fair even to children, that some children have nobody to ask for food except strangers or have to work hard from a young age. It’s painful to witness this, but it also helps to think beyond “What else do I want for Christmas?”. And I’m talking about myself as well. Do I really need this thing, or how do I use this money to help someone in need? is the better question for me.