A few days later, things all seem so quiet in the morning

I have been here for 3 days now.

After the first day, we finally reached Ahmed's place in Dokki, closer to downtown, making it easier for us to move about. I have not been sleeping well. Jetlag, or lack of a proper bed or a combination of both, but regardless, it had put my writing on hold for a moment. At Ahmed's, we ate a good dinner, delivery, and just settled into our new environment. Ahmed was very happy to have us as it helped distract him from the immediate shock of the loss of his mother. The next morning, Rob went to meet his friends from Code Pink who were doing activist things downtown, and Ahmed and I took a short walk around the neighborhood for some supplies. Got cash from a working ATM and went to the pharmacy. I have been suffering from some sort of very painful ear infection and was desperate for medicine. Unlike pharmacies in the US, you don’t need a prescription for things like antibiotics. The lady at the counter was amazingly helpful. Asked me my symptoms and recommended the appropriate treatments. She had a sweet face, soft red lipstick, and wore a white Hijab and pharmacist coat. Spoke perfect English.

"You are here for tourism?"

"Yes. And to visit my friend here."

"Even with the current situation? It does not bother you?"

"Not really. I don’t care much about it."

"That is good. Well, welcome. Feel better."

"Shukrun. Ma3 salaam."

We walked around the corner to the store, got some juice and Nescafe, and headed back to the house. While Rob was out having a great adventure for the day, I just stayed in the house with Ahmed and watched movies on TV.

Rob finally returned with stories. Code Pink had decided on flower power. They went and spent $200 on various flowers and doting vests that read, "we stand with you in solidarity" or some such thing written in Arabic, went down to Tahrir square. Ushered through the women's side of the checkpoint and into the crowd, a circle of people holding hands surrounded them and made space for them to move, keeping people away, and escorted them to the stage, where they were sent up and introduced. They tossed the flowers, stem by stem, into the crowd. After, people were hugging and kissing them.

All of this was reported to me second hand of course, from Rob when he finally got back to the apartment around dusk. I was happy that I did not join. The story was amazing to hear, but I am not good in crowds, especially if I am suffering from head pain.

By the time Rob returned, the medicine had started working and I was feeling much better and able to sleep a bit that night, but still not enough to grant me much energy the next day. It didn't help of course, that I was staying on a love seat with my legs either hanging over the armrest or curled up in a ball with my neck all tweaked.

I woke again round 3am during the night and could not get back to sleep. I turned on the TV and watched some stupid American sitcoms before finally landing on a great Jet Li movie, Swordsmen II. Amazing to watch, but long, so by the time Ahmed got up and prepared Nescafe for us, I was still awake.

Rob finally woke up, came out of his room in his legendary blue velour bathrobe, and joined us for morning coffee. He had plans to meet up with his friends from Code Pink again that day, not in the square, but doing some other sort of activity. I was, as you can imagine, still exhausted, and wanted to spend more time with Ahmed.

After Rob left, we got motivated to get out of the house as well, getting a bit of cabin fever. Ahmed's family has been a member of the Gezira Sports Club for his whole life. He practically grew up there. We decided to venture there for the afternoon to have coffee and sit in the gardens.

In the taxi that took us over the Nile to the island of Zamalek, there was plenty of traffic, but still nothing compared to an ordinary day in Cairo. It was 100 L.E. (about $15 or so) for me to enter, being a foreigner. With my official chit in hand, we walked into the compound. Gardens, cafes, and gyms. Swimming pools and fountains. A golf course, and horse stables, even with a track for practicing Polo. After a short tour, we sat at a table looking at the golf course and ordered Arabic coffee, cheese sandwiches, and bottled water from the very pleasant waiter.

The sun was shining through the passing clouds, and the breeze around the island was cool enough to wear a sweater and scarf. Other tables around were occupied with people chatting, enjoying coffee, and Cleopatra cigarettes. Stray cats slept curled up on chairs in the sun, or wandered about meowing for food or attention. A group of Crows was busying themselves with the better part of crumbs from a KFC box that was left on the terrace and two stray dogs wandered in and circled about investigating options for food. All these creatures mingled about in the same space next to our table. Ahmed tossed them some pieces of bread, and they all had their go for it, but didn't fight each other or make a scene about it. We sat in the sun chatting and finishing our coffee.

My eyes were half open at this point. All I wanted was sleep so we got up to make our way home, but first stopped by the patio round the pool to see if any of Ahmed's friends were about. We did find a few and sat with them for 10 minutes or so. There were two older divorcees wearing gaudy jewelry and bad make up, chain-smoking Cleopatra cigarettes.

"What is your name?"

"Sahari." (I find leaving out the 'T' just makes it easier in certain situations.)

"Eh? Ana Sahar! Inti Sahari, Ana Sahar, you plurial, me one!" She was very amused by this. "What is your religion?"

"I don’t have one."

"This is better. We don’t have to argue about anything then."

She was very sweet and enjoyed the conversation so entirely that it made me smile a lot.

There were people everywhere seemingly just happy to get out of the house and have at least a day of relative normalcy back.

I crashed for a 45-minute nap when we returned home only to be woken by hunger. I guess the sandwiches were not quite enough food. Rob came home with more stories and had, during the day, procured a key to his friend's empty apartment in Zamalek that afternoon.

We ate some dinner, said goodbye to Ahmed for the evening, loaded all robs suitcases and my backpack into a taxi leaving just enough room for me to squeeze into the back seat, and headed for our new living quarters. It was dark by this time. We passed through one makeshift checkpoint just crossing the bridge to the island. Down a narrow street in a quiet neighborhood, we arrived. A group of neighbors were busy setting up a fire in the street and pulling up chairs around it. Women, little children running around, and some men, chatting loudly and happily about god knows what. We spent about 15 minutes knocking on the security door to the building trying to find the bawaab (door man). The apartment is great. Spacious with marble floors and two bedrooms with massive king size beds. I looked forward to sleeping this night.

Not yet 9:00 pm, we ventured into the Streets to see what was about and go to the Marriot hotel close by for Arghileh and a drink. The streets were very quiet, but the people we did run into were very friendly. The Marriot in Cairo might as well be a palace for a king. Grand, ornate architecture, beautiful lobbies and at least three or four bars and restaurants with outdoor patios surrounded by gardens and fountains.

We sat for the better part of an hour, enjoying conversation, smoking arghileh, and having gin cocktails while we pondered over the various occupations of the foreigners at other tables. Most of them journalists, even recognizing one British guy we saw on BBC earlier that morning whom I liked, and Rob did not.

Short walk back to the apartment, past some neighbors sitting on their landing smoking arghileh. "Masah al-khair." (Good evening). A large man with a huge belly and a grey dushdish (long tunic), a white embroidered cap, and dark sunglasses, sat in the yellow streetlights and smoked away with his friends. Again, we cannot seem to rouse Salah, the bawaab, though knocking diligently. One of the neighbors comes over and yells to another who was sitting down the block round the fire to come and find Salah. The other neighbor comes over and knocks on the door as well.

First neighbor, "why are you knocking? You see me knocking? So you are knocking? Go around the building to the side, and get Salah from his room."

Second neighbor seems a bit perplexed, "Ya Salah!"

First neighbor, "you want to leave these foreigners in the street? Go around the building." Second neighbor finally gives in, and Salah eventually comes to the door.

I finally get some rest falling asleep to the sound of the neighbors round the fire happily chatting away.

It is now 6:00 am. I woke at 4:30 this morning rather than 3:00. Not able to go back to sleep, I have been writing these events of the last 2 days here in Cairo, where I am determined to see what life is like amid chaos, though it really does not seem chaotic to me at all. The sun rises in the East. The muezzin is heard from the mosques calling people to prayer and alerting me that it must be between 4:00 and 6:00 am. The birds chirp in the early dawn and the city prepares for another day of adventures, or maybe, just some more coffee and conversation.