Daily frustration, Cairo-style

One of the reasons life in Cairo can be a drag is that straightforward situations are so often not. Things aren't what they're said to be, people agree to one thing and then do another - or nothing at all- and you're left frustrated and looking for a quick fix.

Last night, for instance, Alex and I decided to go to the movies in our new neighborhood. I checked Yallabina, a shitty site with movie times, cinemas and surreal synopses (Sucker Punch, for example: "Close your eyes, Open your Mind, You will be unprepared.") and found two movie theatres in Maadi. In Cairo all the movies at a theatre start at the same time, so I just chose the one with the 9:30 showing over the 10. While I was searching for the cinema's address, I read on another site that the films started at 8 and 10:30, so I called the box office, someone actually answered and confirmed that the showing was at 9:30.

Fast forward to 9:30 - Alex and I standing in front of an unmanned ticket booth, with a paper sign taped to the window advertising showings at 8:30 and 10. People unhurriedly milling around. We were willing to wait the half hour, but I decided to check with security guard... who told me that the movies started at 11:15. How is it possible that four different sources gave three different times, and the actual showing was at none of them??

Cairo public toilet?

Knowing that we could still catch the 10 o'clock at the other theatre but not knowing where it was, we left our car there and caught a taxi. Only three of the five movies that Yallabina said were playing at that cinema actually were, and none of them were intriguing. We rejected the Fast and the Furious out of hand, yawned through 10 minutes of The Company Men, and then bought some 3D glasses and held hands through Thor. At least we both love Natalie Portman.

On a failed road trip

The day before that, Alex was doing an excruciating 28-mile hike through the desert with some friends, including three who live in Alexandria. On their way back, they called me to ask if I could find a taxi driver willing to drive them home that night. I flipped through an impressive list of taxi numbers saved in my phone, couldn't distinguish the names from vague memories, and chose one at random. He agreed to come an hour later.

An unexpected house guest

Well, to make a convoluted story short, he didn't. I guess he tried to pass the job to one of his friends, who called me to confirm the time (No, not midnight. 10. Is 10 possible? Ok, nevermind), told me that he himself was fifteen minutes away when I called him, then turned off his phone and never showed up. When I didn't get a response after 20 minutes, I tried another driver, who also accepted the job and showed up pretty promptly having already forgotten where he'd agreed to go. He loaded our friends' backpacks into the trunk of his ancient taxi, haggled for a price to Alexandria, and they left. 20 minutes later he called me and said that my friends wanted to go to Alexandria ("oh, really?") and were taking another taxi. Or something. Since they didn't call us, I gave it up for a bad job and went to bed.

Combine this kind of stuff with doormen who regularly turn your water pressure to 1/3 and forget to turn it back up, a boss claims that you were hired to work 5 days a month, not 3 days a week - nearly FOUR MONTHS after you started working there - and a cleaning lady who doesn't show up or call 50% of the time but you're just grateful that you haven't caught her stealing anything yet, and add in a big mix of your meager arabic and everyone else's broken or nonexistent english and a huge dose of 90 degree days, and you've got the reason why living in the city makes me want to pull out all my hair... and then strangle someone with it.

Frolicking in the desert while Tori suffers from a kidney infection and heat stroke. We all have our highs and lows.

So why am I here? Well, there are good bits too (there has to be, right?) but they'll be a subject for another post.