Re-adjusment

I feel as though my adventure has come to an end. I am back in Cairo, trying to be happy about being in a familiar neighborhood. But driving out of Jerusalem was the second saddest drive of my life. (The first being the drive down highway 7 after leaving a summer at Cheley). Because, in the words of a friend’s friend, “Jerusalem is an f---ed up place”. But that is precisely what draws me so strongly to the city. Without even talking to a single local, I could feel the tension that exists. That tension was made even more evident when I actually explored the entire city. In one day I could be in East Jerusalem where I understood and felt comfortable with the mass chaos that makes up Arab markets and then walk twenty minutes to the west side of the city and stand on the corner of an outdoor mall (much like 16th street mall or the area of Pike and Pine) and listen to the hippie drummers while licking an ice cream cone. The mere idea of this happening is not really that impressive, but the attitude that makes such a dynamic possible is strange. It was like being in two different countries, but they were united in one city, under one sovereignty. I feel drawn to the city in a way I have never felt before. Like I just want to sit in public places and watch interactions (which I did multiple times at the Western Wall). The two weeks we had in Jerusalem were not enough for me to feel comfortable with it. It doesn’t help that I mentally prepared to finish when we left Jerusalem. In my head this meant leaving behind the conflict, the studies, and the foreign culture. But instead we just left the physical proximity and still have to study and live in a foreign culture. So now I am left struggling with keeping my academic focus (which everyone experiences about this time of year anyway) as well as my emotional focus in terms of living in a Muslim culture and the implications of that for a girl. Thankfully, I was reminded today of why I like Cairo. After a long, hot day aimlessly walking through the Cairo museum trying to make rhyme and reason of the junk thrown into the massive halls I just wanted to get home. However I did not want to pay the twenty pounds the taxi drivers were asking for. So I set off to walk. Alas, I caved and flagged a cab after I could no longer take the sun’s rays. In-order to convince the taxi driver that I was not going to pay the twenty pounds he was asking for, I told the driver that I only had five pounds and that I wanted to eat. Instead of taking this as a sign that I was only going to pay the going rate of three pounds, he talk me all about the delicious food his wife makes and offered me a meal at his home. I laughed and thanked him (five different times) until he asked me for my name. Not surprisingly, he called me Heny. He then asked if I was a madame or a mademoiselle. I told him mademoiselle and laughed out loud when he dropped me off and said “bye, bye miser Heny”. That phrase in my head made the rest of the walk back so much more enjoyable. :)