From Athens, we flew to Cairo, where we had arranged to couch-surf with an enthusiastic French expat who has worked for an oil company in Africa for the past 17 years. Fabrice (Fab) informed us that it was great timing because we would arrive on his birthday and there would be a party. He also informed us that there may be two additional surfers in his home.
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| Egyptian Museum in Cairo |
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| Burnt Parliment Building next to Egyptian Museum | (1 block from Tahrir Square, Taken Shortly After Revolution) |
Fab wasn’t home when our taxi arrived, so the other two French surfers let us into his home. The surfers, William and Nora, told us that they had been walking together across Africa for the past two years and were getting by on 1.5 euros per day. We were shocked. How was this possible? Over the next few days, we saw that they were surviving on meals like rice with onion slices and cauliflower puree. They told us that they had slept under the stars with no tent and carry only one change of clothes. Despite the bacteria and toxins, they drink the local water. We tried to understand why they would do this to their health, but all they would say is “it’s complicated.” They had been staying at Fab’s for nearly 2 months. They almost never left the house. We thought it was strange that they were “walking across Africa” because all we saw was that they were couch-surfing for months at a time. They struck me as flagellating Islamic monks (if such a thing existed).
Preparations for Fab’s party were underway when we arrived. The main floor was being transformed with high volume music, a table full of alcoholic drinks, snack food, strobe lights, and a dance floor. It had all the makings of a “made for television” party. Expats from around the world started filling the house around 8pm and we stayed up chatting with ambassadors, state department employees, rugby players, and Venezuelans over the high volume music. At 4am, we finally barricaded our door with our backpack so that roaming couples would know our bed was off limits for the remainder of the night.
The following morning, Mark wasn’t feeling well (one too many shots of tequila?), so I offered to make him something to eat. When I came downstairs, Nora was mopping the floor and cleaning up after the party which I thought was sweet but unnecessary because Aga, the housekeeper, would come later, but I also realized she had been staying for 2 months and may have felt obligated to help with the clean-up. Mark and I hadn’t been grocery shopping yet, and Fab wasn’t awake, so I asked William if he thought Fab would mind if I made eggs and toast. I came down later and asked Nora if there was any coffee. “No,” she said. I asked if she knew where I could find a coffee shop. She suspected there was one near the grocery store, but wasn’t sure because they never spend money on luxuries.
That night, Mark was hungry, so I asked Nora if Fab had any cereal in the house. She got huffy and replied, “It’s the first rule of couch-surfing. If you didn’t bring it, don’t eat it!” I was mortified. I immediately realized how we had transported Turkish hospitality to Egypt where it didn’t belong. We had planned to cook meals for everyone, but Fab was now away for the night, camping and kite-surfing for his birthday. It was painfully awkward, but Mark and I privately discussed our humiliation and were sure we could rectify the situation.
The next morning, we got the passive aggressive treatment from William and Nora. It was awkward, but we hoped things would smooth over when we brought home groceries. Later that night, as we prepared a meal for everyone, William and Nora stormed in and wouldn’t respond when we greeted them. When we tried to make conversation in the kitchen, William turned to us with a face full of hostility and screechingly accused, “I don’t like you. You’re parasites!” We were shocked by the level of anger showing in his eyes. “Woah, I think there was a misunderstanding,” Mark calmly replied as he turned from the counter where we were preparing fajitas. I tried to explain that we felt bad about the misunderstanding and William yelled at me, “I believe in his (Mark’s) eyes that he is sorry, but I don’t believe you (Annie). You’re making excuses, and you are a bad person.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. I felt like in this moment HE was the horrible person, but all I could say was that I was sad, angry, and offended by his remark. “You didn’t even buy toilet paper!” He hissed. “We DID buy toilet paper, “ Mark tried to reassure him. There was no rationalizing to be done; he wanted to hate us. William and Nora refused to eat the food we had cooked for everyone, but with a righteous indignation resigned not to tell Fab that we had broken the rules by making breakfast (even though we asked first to see if it was okay and then bought groceries to replace what we had eaten). I hated William’s self-righteous judgment, and I desperately wanted to leave the house and get a hotel.
The next morning, as Mark and I cooked breakfast, Nora policed the kitchen to make sure we weren’t taking anything that wasn’t ours. I felt like I was being racially profiled and followed in a department store, some clerk watching over my shoulder, ready to call in security at any moment if I used a pinch of salt or pepper. William and Nora felt like the “letter of the law” though I imagined Fab to be a “spirit of the law” kind of guy. To avoid an altercation, I cooked our bland meal without seasoning. I took a handful of ice from the freezer for my coffee and felt judgment condemning me from the other room. I took a glass of water from the purified tank and felt judged. I needed out of the house, away from the over-zealous judgment.
I thought about William’s comment. The definition of a parasite is one who can’t survive without a host. I knew Mark and I could certainly get by without one, but I saw that William and Nora depended on a host. Sure, they paid for their own food and toilet paper, but their host had paid for the bed they were sleeping in, the utility bills for their showers and light, and the computer that they had been using for the past two months. I doubt they could have afforded to take care of themselves for the past two months in Cairo on 1.5 Euro per day. I started to wonder if they were lashing out at us for the judgment they felt for themselves. I didn’t care that Fab provided a place for them to live for 2 months because that was his prerogative, but I didn’t appreciate the recipient of all that goodwill turning to me with judgment about something that had nothing to do with them. It was Fab’s eggs that we ate… or was it? “Our food is precious to us,” William had said earlier. “We have to hide our food from surfers,” he had said. I wondered if he was treating all surfers this way. If he had simply communicated, “Hey, you ate 3 of our eggs, could you please replace them?” of course we would have done so immediately. But, instead there was no grace, no forgiveness, no benefit of the doubt, no healthy communication.
After the party, William had commented about the amount of waste people had left, half-empty drinks which were expensive. He was a biblical Martha, so concerned about the cost or preparation that he missed the joy of the moment itself. The point of the birthday party was for Fab to be surrounded by his friends who were having a great time dancing, talking, and enjoying themselves. It was unfortunate to be in a great guy’s house but living with two miserable people. We decided it was time to forgive, forget, and move on. As we left the house, William apologized for his behavior. "I feel ashamed. I see now that you are good people." We wished them well, left our groceries behind, and boarded a bus to Dahab. Awkwardly enough, we saw them again later in Cairo. They again apologized again for their bad behavior. I’d like to believe we all learned some valuable lessons about how we can behave better in these situations.
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| Engraving Plates in the Bazaar |
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| Local transport |
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| Carrying Bread Through the Market |
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