Alexandria continued

There are a handful of cities around the world that can be said to have one foot in the past, the other in the present. Similarly, many of these cities are both apart of their country and yet at the same time are really not. Alexandria is one of those cities. Situated on the Mediterranean coast, it looks longingly out towards the sea, almost as if to say, "Take me... I want to make my own destiny."

This city has quite the history, as I learned from yesterday's tour of the Bibliotheca Alexandrina, a modern version of the Alexandria Library, the intellectual center of the ancient world. The city has changed hands numerous times: Greek, Arab, Turkish, French... all have had a piece of it and have contributed something to its history. The early 20th century saw it flourish as the center of many of Egypt's ex-pat communities, namely Greeks, Italians, and Jews. Their business-savy ways brought a lot of investment to the city and transformed it into a European-style oasis in the heart of the Middle East. Alas, after Nasser came to power and nationalized most of Egypt's businesses, many of the ex-pat communities decided not to stick around.

Today Alexandria is a shadow of its former self. There are still remnants of the old days. French cafes along the sea, the occasional Greek restaurant, or Italian bakery, but nothing worth gushing over anymore. It's as if time stopped at about 1960 while erosion still took its course, giving the city a ghost-town feel.

Hopefully one day the clock will start ticking again.

Alexandria

Sorry to all for not being very consistent with my blogging lately. Between getting sick, internet access going in and out, and traveling to Alexandria, I haven't had much time or opportunities to write (in fact my clock is ticking right now at the Internet cafe). In brief though, Alexandria is really cool and the library is totally sweet. Definitely worth checking out.

Hopefully I can get some more thoughts and pictures up soon.

Blast from the past

Trade-offs

Today I resolved to find some good fresh fruit, the intake of which I have been sorely neglecting of late. When I stopped at a decent looking shop to survey the selection, the shopkeeper bade me be seated with him outside for a moment after exchanging a couple of typical Arabic formalities. After speaking to me in rapid Egyptian, I apologized and told him I was actually not a native of this land so he should try to speak slower. He asked me where I was from and I said America.

"Oh, I lived in New Jersey for many years," he told me.

"Really? What made you come back to Egypt?"

"It wasn't my choice, I had visa issues. I hope to God I can get a new visa to go back."

I was suddenly interested in why he was so anxious to get back to the U.S. He seemed like he was making a decent enough living here: nice, full produce shop right in downtown Cairo with a couple of workers to help him out.

"I love America more than here. Much more than here."

I asked him why.

"In America, if you work hard, you have a good life. It's a much better life than here. If you work hard in America, your boss says "good job" and gives you good money. Here in Egypt, you can work very hard and not make any money. You can work your whole life and have nothing."

I told him that there must be some good things about Egypt.

"The only good thing is I can do this. I can sit outside here and talk to you and nobody cares. In America, this would be like a "part-time" job," he said with a laugh. I asked him to elaborate further.

"The pace of life here is slower. People spend more time just talking and getting to know each other. It's not like work work work all the time. But it's still a hard life. America is an easy life, in my opinion."

After buying up his store and bidding him farewell, I began reflecting on the differences between the pace of life here and back home. I've definitely had my moments here where I've gotten a bit peeved at not being served quickly at a restaurant or having to wait too long to get my change because the cashier is busy chit-chatting with his buddy behind the counter. The pace of life here is different, but people are more social and do indeed take the time to get to know each other. Building friendship and trust is a very important part of Arab culture (especially business culture). It's not just like "trust me"... no, no. Let's have tea or coffee and smoke some shisha first. Let's chat a little about religion or politics or each other's family. This is how things work here. America--at least the northeast--is a long way off. People keep more to themselves, aren't interested in others, just want to get in and get out and go home.

I'm not trying to advocate one lifestyle or another. I think there are merits to both and we should try to achieve some measure of moderation: excess of chit-chat and lounging on the job is bad, but not knowing who your neighbors or co-workers are is just as bad.

Perhaps some day we'll achieve the "perfectly balanced culture": one where well-paid work is done efficiently enough that we still have enough time left over for ourselves and for one another.

One can hope anyway.

Let my people go

Egypt's Jews--now rumored to be no more than one hundred in number--are very likely the oldest community outside of Israel. After Moses led the Jews out of Egypt, many returned to this ancient land centuries later to escape persecution in Europe. Interestingly enough, at one point compared to Europe, the Islamic world was a much better option for religious minorities like the Jews. While there were still restrictions on their political rights, they were more or less free to practice their faith. They were even exempt from many taxes which gave them some considerable advantages establishing trade and commerce.

All this changed in 1948 with the formation of the state of Israel. Egypt's Jews were harassed and even killed by angry mobs, some of which were incited by the Muslim Brotherhood. With Gamal Abdel Nasser's coup in 1952, full-out anti-Zionism became the order of the day. The pivotal point was probably the 1956 Suez Crisis. Nasser's government issued a statement saying that "all Jews are Zionists and enemies of the state" and promised that they would soon be expelled. By the end of the 1967 war, almost the entire Egyptian Jewish community had emigrated elsewhere, either to Israel, Europe, South America, or the United States.

Today I passed by the only functioning synagogue in Cairo, called Shaar Hashamayim on Adly Street downtown (shown above). By "functioning" we're talking about it only being open for the high holidays: Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Outside the temple were about a half dozen heavily armed policemen, one of whom waved me off after I snapped a picture (top left... not good quality but you can make out the Star of David above the front entrance). I guess they are afraid of Muslim radicals attempting to eradicate what's left of Egypt's all but defunct Jewish community. Sad.

There are divisions though among Jews about whether or not it is worth maintaining historical sites like the Shaar Hashamayim temple. Some say it is absolutely worth preserving Egypt's Jewish history, as Egyptian Jews contributed greatly over the years to Egypt's cultural, political, and economic vibrancy. Others say that the home of the Jews always has and always will be Israel and that they have only really been visitors of other countries... never citizens.

Nonetheless, the Shaar Hashamayim synagogue still stands at the ready, looking like it's waiting to breath easy once again.

On poverty and fundamentalism

I think any Western traveler to the developing world will at some point experience that humbling moment when you realize how blessed you are to have the kind of standard of living that you do. I'm pretty sure I had that moment today.

I decided to venture back into Islamic Cairo and the Khan el-Khalili (bazaar) area, this time during the day, hoping to check out the Museum of Islamic Art. To my disappointment, the museum was closed for renovations. Determined not to waste another cab fare back downtown, I decided to walk in the direction of the bazaar towards the Ataba metro station. I noticed a Western-looking (Spanish) couple checking out a map, so I struck up a conversation with them and we all headed into the bazaar together. So I struck out on the museum... why should I let that ruin my day? There's plenty to see in Khan el-Khalili: street vendors and coffee/shisha houses (known as ahwas) galore, all confined within a narrow maze of winding alleyways bordered by grandiose medieval mosques. It's a little like stepping back in time, except I'm pretty sure they didn't have racks of Casio watches in the Middle Ages.

After making our way through the main bazaar, avoiding all kinds of rabble trying to push jewelry on us ("the best in Egypt, my friend!"), we emptied out onto a long stretch of road I didn't recognize. It became pretty clear to me right away that this was not where tourists normally venture. In the bazaar you see your fair share of pale-skinned backpackers trying to untangle themselves from the salesmen, but this stretch of road looked like where "the Egyptians" live. We walked down a bit until we got hungry, and to my surprise the people at the restaurant we stopped at barely spoke a lick of English.

After leaving the restaurant--which I'm pretty sure overcharged us--the three of us decided to keep exploring this new road on the periphery of the bazaar. As we walked further and further, I felt myself with every block getting further and further from civilization (or maybe, in this part of the world, it was just the opposite). The trash piles seemed to get bigger and the clothes more raggedy. The buildings looked like they would collapse at the slightest breeze. The smell of sewage and rotting food was overpowering at times. We saw fewer and fewer cars with a proper exhaust or muffler system--in fact, there were almost as many donkey-drawn carriages as cars at this point. We had reached the Third World.

I must admit as an American that has grown up in the predominantly affluent northeast, this environment was quite a shock to my system. Do people really live like this? How can they? Doesn't this abject poverty just drive them insane? I guess they figure they have no other choice and that this is what God has destined for them. Humans are adaptable beings, but they still have dignity. Even animals live better than this.

I began to think of some of the causes of underdevelopment. Egypt is a poor country, yes, but what about all that aid the U.S. supposedly gives it? Then I began to think about all those nice government buildings and those nice clean cut policemen and soldiers with their shiny rifles and crisp uniforms that guard them. Could that be where all the money is going?

Arab countries, sadly, have a very poor record of investing in their people. Economic development usually takes a backseat to military spending, as most of these autocratic regimes feel it is better to build a fortress around their authority than to actually address the root causes of challenges to it. The government considers the rise in religious fundamentalism a threat, but could it be possible that the people's shift towards it is more a response to their economic condition than to the promptings of their soul? When you don't have much, it's easy for the void to be filled by promises of paradise in the next life. You see what I'm getting at here.

I know that there are some that scoff at this poverty = fundamentalism/terrorism theory. Bin Laden is a multi-millionaire after all, they say. And it's true that the vast majority of poor Muslims don't turn to terrorism as an outlet for their frustration. But it only makes sense that the less you have, the less you also have to lose. Illiteracy goes along with poverty as well, so if the cleric tells you the Qur'an says A, there is no way you can argue that it actually says B. You don't have a fighting chance.

"Where is the Arabs' dignity?" asked Muammar Gaddafi at the annual Arab summit last year. "Their future? Their very existence? Everything has disappeared."

To be replaced by what?

The Yacoubian Building

My original hostel had some overbooking issues this week so they decided to move me to another location owned by the same family. The location happens to be on the 4th floor of the Yacoubian Building, a little piece of Cairo history idolized in Alaa al-Aswany's famous novel of the same name. For those of you who haven't read it, it's a great depiction of modern Egyptian social life and the dichotomies imbedded within it: the disparity between rich and poor, religious and non-religious, adopted Western culture and Middle Eastern culture, and so on. By tracing the lives and struggles of a diverse spectrum of Egyptian citizenry, it talks a lot about Egypt's overall failure to provide opportunities for its people to live full lives. Even the rich--who were the original inhabitants of the Yacoubian Building in the 20s and 30s--reminisce about the old days when Egypt actually had something going for it (in their view at least).

Anyway, it's a great read (trust me, I'm very picky). If you want a book that gives a really good insight into what contemporary Arab society--with all its complexities-- is all about, I would say look no further.