52

It's one year to the day since I arrived in Egypt. Oddly enough, I arrived back here again on the exact same day as last year.

But, my stay will be short. Tonight, I leave for Tanzania, where I will be supervising a group of CAS students from Hayah in Moshi. I can't wait.

I have spent the last 10 days in Ireland with family, and it was a great time. Funny how quickly family slips right back into being family, despite long periods in between visits. Laughs, fights, dinners, walks, travels, more fights, and so on.

I loved every minute of it.

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I was in the Dublin airport and as usual was the first one there waiting for my flight, a Lufthansa jump to Frankfurt. I figured out where the check in was, and in spite of the fact that the cue was currently being used for Air France, waited at the back. I knew that at any minute the Lufthansa people would show up for check in.

You see, I don't mind waiting, I just don't like waiting in line.

So, I was in a nice place to observe a strange - should I attribute it to individual, cultural, or business - change.

The cue for the Air France flight check in looked a lot more like a labyrinth of mental exercise than an organized line for a flight. In fact, the origin of the line was at the closest point to the check in counters that you would be in. Passengers started right up front, wove their way through curving and makeshift lines away from, then slowly back towards, until they actually got back to the area near where they started. Then, once near, they all broke free from line and tried to navigate their bodies and luggage into an advantageous position to catch the next available attendant. It went this way and that, using the makeshift movie theater (or airport) line makers. The people figured it out, and in a system that was as effective as it needed to be, got on their plane.

As the attendants left the counter, and the Lufthansa employees began to set up shop, one attendant from Lufthansa came out and re-designed the cue line. Methodically, yet with incredible precision and with very little movement wasted, he lined up the barriers into perfect lines. I didn't hear him whistling a tune, but he seemed to be perfectly calm and content in his goings about, and seemed smugly satisfied with his efforts when he was finished. He didn't seem to need a square or a measure, but I swear the thing was on spot perfect in every way. The length of each row equaled the next, and passengers would systematically make their way to the counter.

I smiled to myself, and then found out that somehow, not surprisingly and not pleasantly, I was now 10th in line behind a group of people who had aggressively positioned themselves and their luggage nearer the counter than I had...

We touched down in Frankfurt, and the airport was the picture of organization. In the middle of the darkness of night, planes, cargo lifters, people movers, and many other vehicles were moving with incredible synchronization across the concrete field of lights.

- - - - - - - - -

From Frankfurt, I sat on the plane next to a young girl from Cairo who was returning from studies in Germany. She's one year away from a degree in Computer Engineering. I asked her how many languages she spoke. She ran off a list of languages as I mentally counted to myself. Five. Then, I asked her how many computer languages she was fluent in. Again, she started down a list of names as I counted. I lost track at ten.

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I got back to Cairo at 4 a.m., and played the usual game of I don't need your expensive taxi with an eager bunch of men. It was instantly hot, and it appears the desert has been attempting to reclaim the city while I've been away. Sand was blowing this way and that, and was all over the roads.

I got my guy, who spoke no English, and who instantly began trying to get me to give him American dollars. I told him I didn't have any, but he kept asking. (We had already negotiated the price in EGP.) Seeing he wasn't getting far, he decided to show me his collection of currencies from around the world. (As if I would be so impressed and then understand how important it would be for him to have my dollars...) He showed me what he called Saudi money, various other denominations from other countries, and so on.

Eventually, I got him to move on, but he returned quickly asking that I be his banker and change his 50 Euro note for him. I was not happy, as I am not a bank, and he had a note that might have been Turkish, but I've never seen it before. He was trying to pass it as Euro and take me for a ride. I told him to go to the bank. He kept telling me why he couldn't.

I wanted to get out, but it was the middle of the night, we were screaming down the sand blown road (visibility was bad) at almost 180 kmph in a beat up old Russian Cab. I didn't have much choice but to sit back and take the pain.

About then, I saw ahead a problem, and alerted him to it. He didn't acknowledge he understood (I expected him to slow down) until it was almost too late. 3 giant trucks were sitting motionless in the middle of the road. This road is Egypt's version of an interstate, and what was happening was incredibly dangerous by anybody's standards. We swerved quickly to one side (the wrong side, as it turns out) and narrowly avoided crashing into the back of one semi trailer. Behind us, I heard the screeching of other tires.

As it turned out, three gigantic stone blocks were sitting on the road. One truck had lost it's load, broken it's trailer, and the other two were somehow there in recovery. These blocks were about 4 meters in length, and were probably 2m x 2m wide and tall. Needless to say, had we hit them at any speed we would have died. We then couldn't continue down the side of the road we had originally chosen, so we were backing up in total darkness, during a sandstorm, down an interstate.

I thought I might die. I wondered if the engineer was on the same road.

But, luckily, we got around the problem. Then, not 10 feet past, my money changing taxi cab driver began accelerating back to light speed. As I calmly asked him to slow down a little bit, and mind the other massive stone that was sitting on the left of the road. (I don't think he had seen it yet, either.)

Seeing that we were out of danger, and finally realizing that I was not interested in giving him my money for his fake money, he began down the next usual "I've got a rich American in my cab" angle. "Are you married..."

Ugh. (This doesn't happen a lot, maybe 5-10% of the time, but when it does they always follow with offers for prostitutes. It really pisses me off.)

Finally, after all of that, I arrived home safely, got my bags, my keys, and watched the guy drive away. I know now I watched him drive away with my favorite sweat jacket in his front seat. I sincerely hope it finds it's way back to me as my lost goods (camera in particular) sometimes do.

- - - - - - - - -

I wanted to do laundry and get ready for my next trip, but my water was not working. It's the second time in a year this has happened. For some reason, the pump loses it's gaskets (I think) and needs repairing. So, I slept on it for a bit, and enlisted the help of my bowab when the sun had a chance to greet the morning sky.

Only one hour and 75 EGP later (about $15) I had water not fit for laundry. For some reason (I think the reason is called sand, dirt, and rust) the water is pretty brown. I don't know if lots of flushing will clean out the (tanks? lines? problem?) but I'm trying to make sure I get a clean line before I can wash the clothes. So, outside of that happening, I will be light-packing my bag for Tanzania.

I've updated the photos with some shots of Ireland. I hope I get some really good chances to shoot in Tanzania, so I will be taking the Nikon along.

Until later,