So today I began the escapade of buying fruit at the fruit seller rather than eating junk.
How was it?
Well, I’m hungry, but thats better than being puffed up from salt intake. I bought a half a kilo of guavas and a half a kilo of golden apples. I was going to buy a kilo and a half of fresh mangoes however they are 25LE per kilo and, at that price, quite possibly made of gold.
Had some issues with Arabic, as always, and when I was told the mangoes were 25LE a kilo I mistook it for 5 pounds 20 piastres. An easy mistake for a newbie: “hamsa w ashreen”. But then again I attribute that to 25LE a kilo being completely nonsensical and therefor I converted it to the mostly likely answer. Logically I know it would have been “ropa w hamsa” for 5.20LE, but 25LE for mangoes isn’t exactly on line with logical thinking.
I also got a super crazy/schizo/angry/hopped up on something taxi driver this morning. He tried to charge me 7.50LE for a 5LE ride, a ride I was going to pay him 6LE for just so he wouldn’t kill me or something. Taxi drivers scare me and I’m not sure what I’m going to do to get home. Why can’t there be any microbuses hm? Scratch that, why can’t I just have a car?
We also spent like 40 minutes hanging out waiting for a taxi in Giza last night and met a crazy chick who was in Giza (outside the Faysal metro station) wanting to walk to Ramsis… at 12:30 am… down a very dark and deserted street. We offered to bring her in our taxi (the one we were waiting to catch) to someplace better lit and less likely for her to get murdered but she seemed jumpy and ended up skittering across the busy road to catch a microbus to God knows where. Ah well, we at least tried to do our good deed of the day/week/whatever.
On our way back in to Maadi I got a taste of why life in Maadi is so sheltered and safe: once its a certain time at night the city becomes barracked and the police were spot-checking everyone and their mother last night. Our taxi slipped right through, much to the relief of the driver I’m sure, but it makes me happy that I live where I live. Not that I necessarily consider Cairo to be unsafe, but knowing there are at least five embassies and uncountable diplomatic residences within a one mile radius of my house, all guarded round the clock by guards with guns that may or may not be working but are still big and scary, makes me feel secure.
Having things delivered by big trucks is another story altogether.
This place is nuts.