Our Neighborhood

We have yet to see a single house in Cairo. Everywhere—in all directions—there are apartment blocks. Our own building is five stories high, and from our balcony we can see two long lines of apartment towers running off into the distance, every one of them topped with 10-15 satellite dishes. Directly across from us is a huge military academy with a perimeter of 4-5 miles. Between the academy and us is El Aroucy street. The traffic flow is divided here by a wide boulevard planted with grass and trees. At night, when it is cooler, children often come to this green spot to play soccer. At almost all hours, day and night, we hear the cry of fruit-salesmen wheeling huge carts of fruit around the neighborhood. There is no minaret or mosque directly by us, so we don’t hear any of the Muslim calls to prayer that drench the air five times a day in other regions of the city. (This may change, however, when the military academy begins its fall term.) The cars in our neighborhood provide some interesting contrasts. There are nice, shiny new BMWs and smaller SUVs, but 1970s and 1980s vintage—and earlier—models are in evidence. Every fourth or fifth car is taxi—a small black and white rattling creature that tends to be some kind of old Peugeot. A block or so down our narrow, tree-shaded side-street (which runs from El Aroucy street just past our building’s front door and on and on to who knows where) there is an Internet Cafe. We have glanced around inside, but have yet to try it out. The cost is L.E. 4 per hour. (About 70 cents.) There are at least three grocery stores within fairly easy walking distance and one particularly good restaurant called the Farah. Faith and I and two fellow teachers had an excellent meal there the other night. We tried okra in a spicy red sauce with rice alongside three dishes of hummus, tabulla, and a kind of (non-lettuce-based) salad with mint, cucumber, yoghurt, and black olives in it. These last three dishes came with a big basket of excellent bread for dipping. Finally, we each enjoyed a glass of mango juice. This juice, by the way, defies description. When you think of juice in the states, you’re thinking basically of a certain type of flavored water. Mango juice here, on the other hand, is like a liquified mango, and it is so good you almost can’t believe you’re really tasting it. (I’ve probably said this before, but the food here has been absolutely excellent.) Aside from being wonderful, the food was (by our standards) very cheap: less than $10 per person, including an extra hefty tip. (The service, too, was excellent.) While eating we enjoyed the sight of Middle Eastern as well as American music videos playing on numerous strategically located television screens as well as the sweet scent of shisha smoke. (A shisha is a kind of huge water pipe—more on this later.) In short, a fine time was had by all, and we like our neighborhood very much.