My Adventures in the Arabian Land 2

Outside, the night in Cairo was cold. I mean COLD. In less than two minutes, my palms were freezing. I was cursing myself for leaving my jacket in India. I swung my camera bag across my torso and walked with my hands inside my jeans pockets. I tell you I really looked comical.

I walked around the brightly lit streets to reach a square. It was an intersection of five roads. People were walking in a hurry. I assumed they wanted to get home. The square was brightly lit and almost all the shops were selling footwear for women(???!) The women of Cairo did seem to take their footwear seriously!

It was an impressive collection of different kinds of shoes; boots (are they still called boots?). I walked past them, giving myself away as a tourist taking the occasional picture. (Did I tell you that I did look like an Arab with my mush :-). I searched for a shop that sold jackets or warm clothing, my first purchase abroad (Of course, I will bore you death with a lot of "My first" stuff!).

I was in no mood to spend a lot of money. I went to a street that had clothes lined up on little hangers and stacked neatly on the pavement. There was a shop selling only jackets and a lot of people were buying from there. A little girl (she looked kinda Indian, I thought first) was asking the shopkeeper in English "Do you have Chelsea?". She was speaking football clubs. She definitely was not Indian.

The shopkeeper saw me and asked "Indian?"

"Yes"

"Amitabh Bachan!" he said, pumping his fist. I was happy he said that and I smiled back. (By the time I left Egypt, I heard people call out that name so many times that I wanted to kill Amitabh, Shahrukh and Aishwarya Rai, in that order)

I dug through the pile of clothes and picked up a nice looking "Nike" jacket. I asked "How much?" He said something in Arabic. I said "La Arabi", English?"

He mumbled something to someone standing next to him and he shrugged. The shopkeeper turned back towards me, took a calculator out of his pocket, typed something and showed it to me. It said 120.

I asked "Egyptian Pounds?". He nodded. I shook my head "La la la". I took the calculator from him and typed 60 (The Chennai bargain rule of starting from the 50% of the quoted price). He looked at it and laughed out loud. The other guy also started laughing. Deep inside my head I thought I was acting stupid but my ego was intact. I would not let them win. He then typed 100. I typed 70. 85. 75.

"75 " I declared and started walking away. It worked as it always does. He called back and took out a black plastic bag (man these black plastic bags are everywhere!) and packed it, all the time mumbling something (we call it "polambal" in Tamil). I wore the jacket and it seemed good on me. Not a bad purchase after all. It was getting late and I was hungry.

The hotel manager had suggested Abou Tarek as good place to eat. It was close to my hotel. I headed back and then I realised I had no clue where I was. I asked a small shop the way to Abou Tarek. He asked "Indian?"

"Yes", I nodded.

"Amitach Bachan!!" and a big smile. I smiled back, pumping my fist, “Yeah”.

He went "A la snlafjdidujdh (hand turns right) jkdfn nfjnakj (hand points straight)....Abou Tareka!)

I didn't catch a word of what he said but understood where he meant. I said "Shukran" and left. He seemed happy I knew Arabic and shouted back "Afwan!"

Abou Tarek is an unassuming little restaurant with neat little tables and stainless plates and water jugs. For all its popularity, it is quite a humble place. It reminded me of Adyar Ananda Bhavan in Adyar (obviously!), Chennai.

I didn’t know what to order. I tried to see if there was a menu of some sort. There was none. I asked the waiter in white and black uniform, “What do you have?”. The first thing he asked was “No Arabi?”

“No”.

“Indian?”

“Yes”

“Welcome to Egypt” (Obviously he didn’t care about Amitabh!). We have Koshary”

“Okay....and?”

“Koshary”

“Just Koshary?”

“Yes”

“Ok Koshary then” He asked if I wanted for 5 or 10 pounds. In Abou Tarek, you tell them how much you want to eat for and pay upfront. I ordered for 10 pounds (I was VERY hungry). He brought a medium sized bowl full of Pasta-looking stuff. Koshary is apparently a variety of Pasta with rice, brown lentils, chickpeas, macaroni, and a topping of Egyptian garlic and vinegar and spicy tomato sauce (salsa) (of course, courtesy Wikipedia that night).

I gulped it down greedily, much to the annoyance of the guy opposite to me who was trying to strike up a conversation. But what could I do? It was delicious! All I remember after that was I went back to the room and fell on the bed.

The next thing I remember was bright light in the room. It was about 7 am. I lazily stood up and opened the curtains. I looked out through the balcony and held my breath for a few seconds. This is what I saw.

I just stood there, forgetting to brush my teeth, forgetting time. I just enjoyed the view, taking pictures.

After what seemed like only a few minutes, I looked at the watch. It was 8 am. Damn, I was late. I had to leave for Alexandria.

.....Alexandria