Habibi, habibi

Back in Cairo. Getting reacquainted with the incessant honking, beeping, and blaring of horns. Dodging trash and traffic and the occasional hungry stray cat. And blocking out the hisses and welcomes and marriage proposals. Actually, all of this has been relatively easy to do since I’ve spent a large part of the past 4 days in Dana’s swank Dokki apartment, watching the balcony life across the way. We’re up on the 6th floor and the people across from us on the 5th and 6th lead really interesting and lively lives. Yesterday, they were having a Friday family gathering—people kept coming in and out of the apartments with food and drinks. Women on one balcony, men on another. Right now, there is a woman sitting in the window, with a pink towl under her chin. I can’t tell if she is getting some sort of facial treatment or if there is something else going on there. The apartment exteriors are dingy—beige, gray, and yellow with paint and concrete peeling. Clotheslines and wires dangling all over and emerging from random holes carved into the balconies—I’m thinking that could be bootleg TV. Maybe? There is one lone apartment to the left that is painted bright salmon with magenta doors. Well, at one point it was bright pink—now it is dirty rose. With dusty houseplants on the pink ringed balcony. Below that is an apartment with a giant German Shepard. He gets the thin sliver of balcony as his lair—it is covered in dingy carpets and blankets with one bright yellow and red squeeze toy.

Two days ago, we went to a restaurant where we had pigeon. With the heads still on. It was delicious, despite the glazed over eye sockets staring up at you from the plate. First, they are stuffed with a spicy rice—lots of mulling-type spices, I think. Then, they are boiled, and then they are fried. You hold them by their tiny wings—who knew wings were so small! And gently bite down, spinal cord first. The cooks leave the hearts, livers, and other organs in the rice mixture, approximately in the correct anatomical position. But I took those out and put them on my plate next to the head. Oh my. Also, the best tahini ever, some pickles, salad and some sort of delicious soup in a cup. One guy said it was pureed bird guts. But I chose to ignore that comment. Then off to El-Horea, a 1930s-era coffeehouse where they also serve Stella behind a screen, separated from the street. More peeling yellow paint, tall ceilings, and men with lots of empty bottles on their tables. It was a good time.

Last night, we stayed in, ordered Fuddruckers’ cheeseburgers from Otlob—a delivery service—and watched the Gilmore Girls. And ate cheesecake and brownies. And watched more Gilmore Girls. And then a couple more episodes. It was excellent.

Tonight, I am off to Aswan on the overnight sleeper train. Swank! I hear the dinner and breakfast we get rivals that of Egypt Air. I can’t wait ;-p

Oh, and Happy Habibi Day!