A Working Woman.

We are now three Americans in a downtown Cairo hostel, looking at the lights illuminating the government building, listening to the chorus of car horns in the street below, washing the dust off our feet from a day well spent. My 2nd roommate for the summer, E., arrived at the airport at 8pm--the best time of the day in Egypt. The sun is setting, turning the shanty brick apartment buildings, marble mosques, and dusty skyscrapers a hazy yellow. K. and I drove with our friend Farek the Taxi Driver to pick E. up from the airport. Although Farek was getting frustrated with the traffic (he started making up a catchy song, "the traffic in Egypt is so bad, I think I'm going to kill myself..."), K. and I actually really enjoyed the scenic trip through Cairo. Having been limited to the downtown area for the past week, it was good to remember just how much there is to Cairo! You could never exhaust this city. There will always be more to see. This time around in Egypt, I've been noticing more nuances than before--the varieties of skin tones, class differences, political opinions, religious expressions, lifestyles... With fresh eyes, I'm simply seeing differently than I did the last time.

8pm in Egypt also means that it's finally cooled down to a bearable temperature! Every morning as I leave for work (more on work later), dressed oh-so-professionally in my Hillary Clinton-esque pant suit and pearls, my whole body bursts into sweat. Like a puffer fish suddenly inflamed, my entire body instantly beads into droplets of perspiration. If you've never experienced this kind of spontaneous soiling, I don't wish it upon you. 

My entire commute to my internship involves crossing one street. Ha, you say. Easy. Oh, no, my friend. This is easily a 15 minute endeavor.

First, I either walk down 7 flights of stairs to the street, or risk my life in the janky elevator that fits 1.5 skinny people, is completely open on one side, and shudders as you shake and wobble down into the utter darkness of the elevator shaft. 

Second, I step over the cracked sidewalk, slide through double-parked cars, buy a large bottle of water for the day from a young street vendor who is not impressed with my fledgling Arabic, and finally to the street corner.

I am now faced with 10 improvised lanes of traffic. No traffic lights. No crosswalk. No traffic cops. Having cut my teeth on this real-life version of Frogger during my last stay in Egypt, I feel a certain fatalistic boldness this time around. I stare at the taxis and buses as I step in front of moving traffic. I see you. You hit me, I'll kill you. I own this road. 

The trick is actually to pace yourself with another Egyptian crossing the road, and to walk when they walk. But even with a crossing buddy, you invariably find yourself pausing mid-lane to let cars narrowly pass you on either side before continuing on. No, they will not stop. You're lucky if they swerve.

Once I'm successfully across the street, beading sweat, huffing and puffing from my lethal jaunt across traffic, I'm hardly feeling like the bright-eyed, intrepid intern off to learn the ropes of Arab politics. I mostly feel dishevelled and ridiculously over dressed for the climate. 

The Egyptian Museum (home to King Tut, 20,000 stone busts without labels, and 600 tourists in skanky shorts and tank tops) is right next store to my building. This means I first need to pass through museum security. Dressed in my classy pant suit/pearls combo, I clearly am no museum monkey. The museum police know me by now, and greet me with a kind of amused look on their face as I walk through the metal detector.

At least 10 minutes have gone by, and I'm no more than 100 yards from my hostel. I walk briskly past the museum, past a swanky western hotel, to the front door of my building. Another security check. My purse is x-rayed, I'm metal detected, and I exchange my American drivers lisence for a visitor's badge with the skeptical reception security staff. 

Whew.

My office is air-conditioned, though, so I at least have the solace of knowing that I'll air dry as the day goes on.

In reality, my internship is phenomenal, better than I could have imagined. There are some confidentiality issues, which is why I'm sticking with a lot of acronyms and shortened names. But I'm working for the Department of the Americas, which deals with the relationship between the Arab World and the Western Hemisphere. They have me working on a project for the North American director that is way beyond my qualifications, but I feel lucky and honored to have been given this kind of responsibility. 

There's always more to tell, but I think I'll leave it here for now. I just spent a relaxing evening with my roommates at an outdoor tea and hookah cafe in the old European part of the downtown. It was nearly midnight, but the streets were more full than ever. It's so much more pleasant to be outside at nighttime that all the stores open up and the people come pouring into the streets, strolling arm in arm with loved ones or shopping with girl friends, guys sitting together to drink tea and joke around. We could have sat out there forever. But with my 5-hour work day calling, we had to be responsible and turn in for the night... 

In the meantime, thanks for all your blog comments, facebook messages, and emails. It's great to hear how all of you are doing--please keep me in the loop with life back home! I miss you all.