Taxi Twilight Zone and Mugamma

I had a tough week this week. It’s always hard to return to work after a great vacation I know but this week was more trying than most. First, Hamdy, the schools driver was not available so I had to taxi-it all week. It is shocking how quickly one can become accustomed to having a driver at your service. Alas, I was on my own. It seems no matter what I did, I could not get taxi service in anything under 2 hours and at minimum 5 phone calls.

It’s difficult for me to be so dependent on others. I am used to moving under my own volition at my will. Inevitably at the scheduled time the taxi should have arrived I would get a call from the taxi driver himself. “Hello. How do I find your house?” Hello, You’re the driver isn’t that your job?!

Truth be told my apartment is hard to find. Other than major streets, I cannot see any discernable street signs. And I’d be hard pressed to explain how to get there even in English. “Ok, find Mokattam Hospital on Road 9. Look across the street. See the dirt road. No the other dirt road to the left of the temporary cow and sheep stable. (I’ll explain the farm animals in the street in another posting.) Yeah that one. Go to the end of that street. Go thru the construction site. Yeah really it’s OK. Then I’m on the right in the white and green building.”

Ya so, I am no help at all in directing the taxi driver. So, I must run downstairs and find the bawaab (door/security man) Housein. So that he can explain things. Either Housein’s directions aren’t very good or it is just really hard to find my place because they inevitably call at least 3 times before finding me. Thus, up and down I go all morning long 3 flights each time. When they call to say, “Really you want me to go thru the construction site?” I know it’s time to collect my bag and laptop to go. I haven’t gotten to work before 10 am this week.

Also, this week my one month tourist visa expired. So I had to go to the Egyptian office known as the Mugamma to extend it.

Much has been written about this cavernous bureaucratic monstrosity; including tales of more than one employee who actually LIVED in their offices, moved their whole families in. One family actually lived there undiscovered for 20 years. This place is a nightmare 15 circular floors of office space - think Orwell's 1984. Thankfully all of my work was on floor 2 which all looked like a bank with the staff behind protective glass windows and the customers milling around.

When I arrive, I am directed to window 12 for visa extension applications. I’m told to fill out the application, get copies of my passport and photos as well as buy stamps at window 43 then return to window 12 with everything in hand. Window 43 is like the cashiers window. You pay varying amounts of money depending on what visa you need and the teller behind the glass window gives you a variety of colored postage stamps indicating what you paid for and how much. When you return to your appointed window the teller then affixes them to your application. There are HUNDREDS of windows but only 2 cashier windows. So there is a real backup here. Most tellers speak English, but not the cashier. I got by with the help of some other kind souls in line.

Oh, important point here: no one but Americans actually stand in line and wait for the tellers to politely say next customer. It is a pushing and shoving match to get any service. You have to be assertive or you’ll never get out of there. I make it through virtually unscathed.

I return to window 12 with everything in hand and am told to return in 2 hours to pick up my passport. I am also told once I get my passport back I can then apply for multiple entry visa. I escape into the courtyard, thinking to myself that wasn’t so bad. I happily wander to American University in Cairo (AUC) Bookstore for their holiday sale. A bookstore is a favorite refuge of mine. I shed the taxi stress easily among the stacks.

At the appointed time, I return to collect my passport at a new window. In the meantime security has been stepped up and now I must put my bag thru a security conveyer belt - with no TV screen connected to see the contents inside. So my bags go for a ride and I go thru a metal detector. The woman at window 38 flips through a stack of passports until she finds my picture. I am directed to window 2 to get a multi-entry visa. I am given a new application and directed back to window 43 to pay again and collect new stamps.

At window 43 there is a melee. The man in front of me is taking too long for everyone’s liking. The men behind me start pushing and shoving and yelling. I am now pinned against the glass and a man behind me is screaming in my ear and leaning over me waving his money through the window in the tellers face. She is ignoring him. Thankfully, I have learned to say NO and STOP in Arabic, little good that it did. So there are like 5 people all with their hands and money stuck through the window slat and 15 more pushing to get in too. Now is a good time to mention too that deodorant is not commonly used here by all.

The man finally finishes and she looks at me. Remember she doesn't speak English. All of the people behind me take advantage of this and insist that they be serviced first. I am still pinned against the window can’t breathe from the pressure and the smell. Finally we communicate with help. She takes my money, gives me the change and starts counting out stamps through this little slat with 5 other arms grasping for anything. Stamps in hand I need to now extract myself from the crowd and get out of here. As I turn to squeeze out, I am jostled and I drop one of my precious stamps.

The crowd rushes to fill the empty space my body made and the stamp is stepped on. As I bend down to get it I am trampled. I sincerely know what it must have felt like to be a Walmart employee on Black Friday sales in the USA. I was crushed.

I cover my head and somehow I get my stamp and push my way free. I return to window 2 shaken and disheveled. I hand over my booty to the teller. She sees that everything is again in order and says nonchalantly I should return tomorrow to retrieve my passport.

I cried.

Right there in the middle of everything my heart sank, I felt nauseous and I cried. I cannot do this again tomorrow. I cannot. I unabashedly began begging, “Miss. Miss. Please today. Please.” “Ok. Ok 5 pm.”

I stumbled out of there in a fog. Still shaken, I found a café to hide and nurse my wounds and try to recover.

A few hours later, I head back to AUC to find that rarity a clean public bathroom. And I stumble onto a men’s volleyball tournament. And all the hell of this past week just disappeared.

Picture the volleyball scene from Top Gun, only with more tanned bodies. Nothing else mattered except sitting and watching this very important game. Stress just disintegrated with every serve and spike. Strangers next to me shared their pumpkin seed snacks. I cheered and laughed along with the crowd and enjoyed every second of it.

So there is always a silver lining - in this case a beautiful bronze one.

PS – I did get my passport and visa back tonight. I’m good until July 4, 2009. However, it clearly states, “Work is NOT permitted.”

So I am going to become a woman of leisure and a professional volleyball voyeur.

Enjoy your day and week whatever it may bring. And look for the silver lining and/or bronze god or goddesses.