Column: 8 weeks down, 8 to go

As of this week, my time in Cairo is halfway through.

Two months ago, I was boarding a plane, terrified of becoming lost in half dozen airports and about what waited upon landing here.

Now, I can’t imagine going back. In fact, I can’t really imagine home at all.

All of us international students are starting to realize just how much we’ve changed in the time we’ve been here.

It no longer scares me to be clipped by side mirrors on cars as they rush by on the narrow streets. I cross six-lane roads without much hesitation.

It doesn’t faze me to see donkeys pulling loads of fruit or straw behind them on the highway.

Arabic words are starting to mix into our every day speech. “InshaAllah” for hopefully. “Shukran” for thank you. “AlhamduAllah” as an expression of thanks or gratefulness.
We’re used to bartering and flagging taxis. We’re used to riots every Friday and car crashes on a semi-regular basis.

Some of us are used to getting sick from food poisoning after about one of every three meals we eat.

I no longer notice the heat. In fact, the other day I felt cold in my room, and when I checked the temperature it was 75 degrees Fahrenheit.

I think that was the moment that disturbed me the most.

We’ve started settling into a routine of school of studying and socializing, but that’s dangerous. There’s still so much stuff left to see.

Last weekend I went to Alexandria, Egypt, for the first time on a field trip, but I already want to go back. I want to go down to the Sudanese border to see the great temples at Abu Simbel. I want to go to Sharm el-Sheik and scale Mount Sinai.

For Eid, a Muslim holiday, we have a week break, and I’m going to Athens, Greece. There, I am going to attempt to find the village where my family is originally from.
That’s an adventure in and of itself. 

And there are still things to see in Cairo. I want to see the citadel and Ibn Tulun mosque. I want to go to City of the Dead, a massive cemetery now inhabited by entire families hired to watch the grave sites.

I still have to ride a camel.

I’ve seen the pyramids. I went to Memphis, Egypt, and saw the massive statue of Ramses II. I’ve gone to classes and taken midterms. I’ve smoked shisha out of a coconut with a group of Egyptian friends in an all-male bar. I’ve drunk enough mango juice to fill the Red Sea, which I have now swum in.

I have toured mosques and churches. I got lost in the maze that is Khan al-Khalily, an old, Aladdin-style market in Islamic Cairo.

I’ve eaten koshari, tamaiyya — the Egyptian version of falafel — and fuul nearly every day.

I’ve gotten caught in the Free Syria protests in Tahrir Square, and I’ve found out I’m worth approximately 10,000 camels to the average Egyptian street vendor. 

So far, I think I’ve spent my time here very well, but I know I’m not going to be ready to leave in December.

Don’t get me wrong — I am so excited to see my family and friends again, to be able to drink the tap water, to be able to travel alone as a woman.

But I also know I could live here for years and never be done with Egypt.

­— hannsmit@indiana.edu