We were staying at Isis hotel in Aswan. Our rooms were small cabins and we could board feluccas from the behind the pool. This was all very nice, but after a quick dip I felt the need to see more of town. My plan was to find some local food and catch up on e-mail in a wireless café, which had been plentiful in Cairo.
I crossed the street and walked parallel to the Nile. Despite my long white skirt and modest ¾ sleeve shirt, most guys I passed catcalled, muttered or tried to sell me something in Arabic, English or French. I will write more about this aspect of Egypt in another blog, now suffice it to say while annoying, there are worse things. For example Egypt has a lower crime rate than the United States. I haven’t been touched, with the exception of a boy who looked about 11 who grabbed my ass down the street from our hotel in Zamalek.
Continuing on….after walking about 15 minutes I saw an internet café sign pointing down into the souk, or marketplace. The dark room with old computers and no wireless was not what I had in mind. “What you want?” Asked the young man standing near the entrance. “Wireless internet,” I told him, gesturing to the laptop in my backpack. He nodded like he understood and told me to come with him.
I followed him down a perpendicular alley and then right up another street and into a similar albeit slightly bigger internet café.
*Sigh*
As I thanked him but turned to leave another man asked me in excellent English what I wanted.
He said his name was Arif (means to know/knowledge) and I could use wireless in his shop next store. Reluctantly, I followed to the shop over. He flicked a couple switches and I asked him, “how much?”
He gave me a funny, stern look.
“No charge. You can stay as long as you like. Sit down. Relax.”
Though sketched out, it was a busy marketplace and he seemed harmless.
I watched him make Karkaday (hibiscus tea) with a small steamer from bottled water as I discovered the internet didn’t work with my computer.
I told him so and said goodbye but he asked me how many teaspoons of sugar I liked in my tea. When I refused he seemed to role his eyes.
He handed me one of the many journals on the desk in front of him and flipped to a page in English.
Since reading that first entry I’ve read so many to myself and out-loud to Arif’s father, Hagag, that I forget exactly how that first one went. Most when something like this.
Dear Hagag,
What a blessing to stumble into your shop and find true hospitality a mid the hassle and bustle of the Souk. I will always remember the tea we shared and the hours we talked. You are so wise and knowledable; you talk about philosophy religion, cultures and travels. When I refused sheisha you took out supplies and together we made bracelets; you seem to have something for everyone. I'm sure we will keep in touch
Your friend….
location
address/email/
I flipped through the book and picked up another while Arif watched silently.
The whole desk was stacked with journals filled with similar entries. Some casual thank you notes, some bible verses and prayers. There were also stacks of postcard correspondences dating back to the ‘80s. They were written in English, French Arabic and German by people from all over the world.
After a couple minutes of sorting through the stacks and sipping tea, the famous Hagag made his entrance. Arif, introduced us, vacated his seat next to me and walked out of the shop.
I think I walked in around 3:00, I found myself leaving just in time for our 5:30 Felucca ride with one of his bracelets on my wrist, my words in one of his journals and a promise to visit later on with Mary.
Leaving, I was completely thrown off, all most spooked by the experience. How could someone like that be for real…
After talking about it and going back I think he is.
I crossed the street and walked parallel to the Nile. Despite my long white skirt and modest ¾ sleeve shirt, most guys I passed catcalled, muttered or tried to sell me something in Arabic, English or French. I will write more about this aspect of Egypt in another blog, now suffice it to say while annoying, there are worse things. For example Egypt has a lower crime rate than the United States. I haven’t been touched, with the exception of a boy who looked about 11 who grabbed my ass down the street from our hotel in Zamalek.
Continuing on….after walking about 15 minutes I saw an internet café sign pointing down into the souk, or marketplace. The dark room with old computers and no wireless was not what I had in mind. “What you want?” Asked the young man standing near the entrance. “Wireless internet,” I told him, gesturing to the laptop in my backpack. He nodded like he understood and told me to come with him.
I followed him down a perpendicular alley and then right up another street and into a similar albeit slightly bigger internet café.
*Sigh*
As I thanked him but turned to leave another man asked me in excellent English what I wanted.
He said his name was Arif (means to know/knowledge) and I could use wireless in his shop next store. Reluctantly, I followed to the shop over. He flicked a couple switches and I asked him, “how much?”
He gave me a funny, stern look.
“No charge. You can stay as long as you like. Sit down. Relax.”
Though sketched out, it was a busy marketplace and he seemed harmless.
I watched him make Karkaday (hibiscus tea) with a small steamer from bottled water as I discovered the internet didn’t work with my computer.
I told him so and said goodbye but he asked me how many teaspoons of sugar I liked in my tea. When I refused he seemed to role his eyes.
He handed me one of the many journals on the desk in front of him and flipped to a page in English.
Since reading that first entry I’ve read so many to myself and out-loud to Arif’s father, Hagag, that I forget exactly how that first one went. Most when something like this.
Dear Hagag,
What a blessing to stumble into your shop and find true hospitality a mid the hassle and bustle of the Souk. I will always remember the tea we shared and the hours we talked. You are so wise and knowledable; you talk about philosophy religion, cultures and travels. When I refused sheisha you took out supplies and together we made bracelets; you seem to have something for everyone. I'm sure we will keep in touch
Your friend….
location
address/email/
I flipped through the book and picked up another while Arif watched silently.
The whole desk was stacked with journals filled with similar entries. Some casual thank you notes, some bible verses and prayers. There were also stacks of postcard correspondences dating back to the ‘80s. They were written in English, French Arabic and German by people from all over the world.
After a couple minutes of sorting through the stacks and sipping tea, the famous Hagag made his entrance. Arif, introduced us, vacated his seat next to me and walked out of the shop.
I think I walked in around 3:00, I found myself leaving just in time for our 5:30 Felucca ride with one of his bracelets on my wrist, my words in one of his journals and a promise to visit later on with Mary.
Leaving, I was completely thrown off, all most spooked by the experience. How could someone like that be for real…
After talking about it and going back I think he is.
It’s cliché after reading so many journal entries that said it…but I can’t think of a time I encountered such genuine hospitality and acceptance. I believe he wanted nothing but conversation. He was curious about the people who came to his country, he had traveled some and wished he could travel more. He saw how tourists annoyed with hassling salesmen responded a welcome in his shop. He was optimistic.
What he has done is ironicaly similiar to our purposes for being here.
What he has done is ironicaly similiar to our purposes for being here.
Bridges between peoples and cultures.
Do you believe in coincidences?
2 comments:
Lily: I am so grateful that this turned out to be an amazing experience for you. Most people would not take a chance to get to know someone. I admit, I might have been scared enough to leave, before you did. I miss you loads. Stay safe, and enjoy yourself!
Anne
Hi Lily,It is so typical of
hospitality in that part of the world. People will give you things you admire(I had to be careful in Kabul because I didn't want them or me to feel like I was angling for something.) When they invited people to their homes they were treated like royalty. When doing business, it was always over tea & laughter. I love your blog & you.
Granny
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