Asian Traffick Expert

Understand that Cairo is home to over 18 million people. nearly 5 million come and go daily for work. close to 20, 000 arrive monthly in hope of staying.

It is crowded. It is big. It is loud. It is polluted. It is unrelenting. But, it is Cairo. And there is no place like it.

That being said, you can only imagine the traffick. Yes, a portion of people move underground. But the vast majority are on top of the tarmac - pedestrians, bicycles, donkey, horses, carts, carriages, cars, minibuses, lorries, buses - everything imaginable except streetcars. This, operating on an ancient system of underways, overpasses, bridges, winding alleys, backstreets, promenades, thoroughfares, avenues, roads, and dirt paths.

Imagine standing on the balcony of a third floor apartment building. You are looking down at a roundabout that gives out to 6 or 7 different directions. Now imagine a statue in the middle of the round about. See each vehicle speeding in, through and out of the round about, on either side of the statue, darting to any given street with no apparent regard for clockwise or counter-clockerwise motion, left or right direction, slow, moderated or fast speed. Apparent chaos.

Realising that this was likely going to get worse with time, Cairene officials invited the best of the best urban planners and traffick specialists from Asia. Please, tell us how to improve this situation, they pleaded.

So the Asians spent months in Cairo: observing, tabulating, monitoring, analysing, computing... In they end they reported back to their employers: "Just let it be. We have no idea how it works. But it does. So just let it be."

First Carriage, Women Only

AHA!

I've found it. The female passengers' dream come true! In Cairo, the underground subway system is cheap, clean, efficient, predictable and goes far. AND the first carriage of every train is exclusively for women and small children. Stunning, and for reasons unexpected as well.

Of course, it is nice not to be glared at. It is pleasant to feel less likely to be robbed. And it is a relief not to be touched in inappropriate places. But the women's carriage is better than that!

The colours. Women generally dress more colourfully than men. So in a crowded carriage full of women, dresses, headscarves, blouses, skirts, dresses, and bags of very imaginable colour make waves like overlapping rainbows, up and down, from the tallest to the shortest of the ladies. It is literally a sea of colours that sways like flowers in the wind.

The sounds. Women generally have softer voices than men. So without the husky, grinding, hoarse, deep tones in masculine voices, a women's carriage sounds light and harmonious, like a dream, a song, a lullaby.

The smells. (Like it or not) Women generally smell nicer than men. The scent of perfumes, sprays, powders, deodorants, conditioners, clean laundry and other secret smells waft through the air, cancelling the foul and embracing the fresh.

The smiles. I've always found it easiest to communicate without words with other women, children and old people. Maybe it is all in my head or maybe it is just more simple between women or maybe there is an implicit agreement between us or maybe ... I don't know. But I am certain that it feels safe and sweet and serene to be in the company of women, and only women. There, we have an understanding of common ground, a freedom to do what we like and an pact to keep it to ourselves. So we smile - openly, deeply and for real.

At 50 piastres a journey, I've found the best way to travel.

Shoelaces & Prayers

It was a hot afternoon in Cairo. I'd been walking for the better part of the day. Wandering around. Getting my bearings. Following my heart through dilapitated slums, extravangant neighbourhoods, heavy traffic, crowded markets, serene parks, backways and alleyways. in and out, up and down, all over.

The smells and sights of a city like Cairo press even the most creative imaginations. Every new corner can potentially uncover a new experience. jumping through centuries and centuries of tradition to modernity and back again. Come, Medam, park your Mercedes next to my donkey cart, we are leaving soon anyway.

At times it feels good to flow with a crowd, to walk in the same time, same pace and same direction as those around you. Other times it feels right, or proves necessary, to go against the crowd - dodging characters of all shapes and sizes, left and right to get through, to get out, to get going. Yet, the most magical of all is to just sit and let it all run over you like water over rocks in a stream. so i did.

Having found a beautiful and inviting piece of shade, I sat for a rest and watched the world go by. Behind me a small garden with a couple sitting together chatting on a wooden bench. They are leaning towards each other, heads angled together, intent and smiling. Their young boy playing at their feet. A few trees and bushes and beyond that, a slight drop, then the river.The big, long, meandering, massive, epic, simple river all the way from the heart of Africa. But here, in this time, in this place, a simple little river, flowing, patiently, in the heat of the afternoon. Ahead of me are a couple apartment buildings with an alleyway separating them. Standing about 5 or 6 stories high, these concrete buildings have both a permanence and a familiarity to them that speaks to the years and years they have have been, to their inhabitants, home. The laundry sways on the lines off balconies, whispering stories of who lives where and what characters they may have.

Occasionally, someone calling up from the street beckons their friend, associate or acquaintance and a head pops out. Discussion insues, resolution found and the person disappears, closing the shutters behind, keeping in the peace but out the sun and noise.

Between the two buildings is an alleyway, just wide enough for two cars. Some old awnings hang lazily out, half stretching, half collapsing into the street. Ostensibly creating shade, but more accurately creating character. this is so and so's shop, who's been doing business here for 40 years, and his father before him and his father before that. I remember when i was a small boy, he used to give me sweets after school... and so on and so on.

The people walking up and down this street cannot be bothered to hurry in the heat, and i can't blame them. A couple young girls, arms interlaced whispering to each other and bursting into fits of laughter. A few old women, entirely in black, carrying their bundles in one hand and trailing grandchildren in the other. A rather young and important looking fellow in a suit, furtively looking left and right as if impatient for something big, something real to occur. And little old me, leaning on a railing, sipping some water.

A gentleman walks by and I notice his shoelace is undone. Not wanting him to trip and hurt himself and not knowing the Arabic word for "shoelace," I simply say: "Man, attention" and point. He pauses looks at my outstretched finger, looks at his shoe, looks at my face, smiles and points to the mosque just ahead: No need to worry, I am almost there and I am going to pray, barefoot.

Technology, smechnology

HELLO ALL!!!

PHEW! It feels GREAT to finally be able to write out a little something! I've had an impressively long series of technological mishaps over the past month, but, god willing,we are now on the right track!

My dad turned 75 about a month ago (Congrats!!!) and has been trying to understand how to use Skype. At one point in his journey he commented: "You know, I am a big supporter of smoke signals!" I somehow feel the same way.

ALAS, no we are sorted and I will recount some impressions, each with their own title so you can browse as you like...

my best to you all.

ciao ciao
mg

Arrival in Cairo

Hello, basically testing this to see if i am competent enough to actually post something on a blog. HA! arrived in Cairo at 020 am. smooth sailing since then...