I have recently returned home for a visit to the US after 16 months abroad. I am currently, as indicated by my writing at 3am, still caught in Cairo time but greatly enjoying my first 24 hours back in the land of the free.
My first 24 hours could partially be characterized as an ardent embrace and reorientation into American consumerism. Within an hour I was eating at the best Mexican restaurant in town, appreciating the glory of endless refills of water, sweet tea, and soft drinks (not to mention some to die for food). That's right, I will never take free unlimited water at restaurants, complete with a slice of lemon, for granted again. That joy is not even to be found in Europe. I drove my car for the first time- as enjoyable as finding a newborn freedom - stretching my legs on the wide open Texas highway with the stereo-system thumping like I was in a concert. Get your bling and your party on b@tc#e$. All the cars seemed huge, new, and spotless. The West Texas air was pure and cold. I spend over an hour mindlessly wandering the aisles of the local HEB- looking at the size and quantity of food and other commodities- the width of the aisles- the cleanliness of the floors- the functionality of the enormous grocery baskets- the observance of line etiquette- people laughing and running around in Santa hats and elf ears. It made me happy- it felt like home- it felt like I was in a foreign country- it felt like I was at Disneyland- it felt perfectly natural- I felt guilty- I felt deserving- I was confused- I was anxious to remember how to act in all this- to not give away that I was undergoing a re-enculturation into my own land. I felt all of this in one moment...the pure joy of absolutely loving all these things about America and the guilt of remembering those less fortunate...the majority. I thought of everything that occurs outside these arbitrarily marked lines of sovereignty so that such goods and services are available in my local HEB...
Most people might tell me to lighten up over Christmas. Don't get me wrong- I am ecstatic to be home. Seeing my family again is exponentially the best part. But it is interesting to think about how I feel. I have been gone before- 3 months, 9 months, etc- and returned with similar sensations...but I have never been gone this long.
As an American it is easy to travel anywhere. We think of the world as an increasingly closer place. Distances grow shorter for us as travel becomes easier and planes get faster. But we do not consider that they grow longer and harder for others- even fellow Americans. I hadn't quite forgotten how flying back into America seems comparable to trying to breach a fortress. Even I, the typical anglo-american girl, felt a bit of apprehension going back through all the various security obstacles that started as far bak as Cairo...there was the slightest hint of wonder if I would get hung up or let back into this mystical land of the free. No, we cannot give you your boarding passes all the way through, they said in Cairo. You have to get them at the desk in Frankfurt. In Germany I was questioned for 10 minutes before I was let to the desk to get my remaining two boarding passes. Then I went through the usual security again at the gate- standing in line for a hour just to be able to be allowed on the plane. Intimate but professional moment and pat down with a German woman. No, even the liquids you bought at duty free need to be put in the plastic bags. In flight announcement "On any flights to the US you may only use the lavatory next to you." Thank you underwear bomber. I want to punch you in the face. Arrival in Dallas: stand in line (if foreign go through photo and finger-printing) for an hour to get through immigration, get your bags, stand in line for an hour through customs, recheck the bags, go out of the international terminal and re-enter the airport and go through American airport security all over again. Then you can get on your domestic flight- welcome to America. You made it.
Now, I am not hating on security per say. But I went through all of this- me, your non-suspicious looking white girl. What is it like for others? Let me be typical and say- what is it like for Arab Americans every time they want to re-enter the country? Distances become longer through time. I can fly to anywhere in the world, relatively speaking, and be let in without note or hassle- just some cash for a visa. The world is my tourist playground...I have the right passport and currency. I can go to the French countryside and drink my heart's content of wine or wander the slums of Mumbai getting my fix of noting just how damn poor the rest of the world is. But, the catch is, I can always leave. This is not my world- it can be just an impersonal curiosity if I choose. Then the guilt sets in.
Many Americans are quite content with their lives and sight-seeing within the country. Why go somewhere else and look at it if this is the best country in the world? There's TV and such- we can see all we want through that. Then there's much of the rest of the world- who would rather be anywhere but where they are...but still attached to home and a familiar life. Just observations really...now if I could just go to sleep...
Friday, December 24, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The Epic Struggle for Internet
This is most certainly a story for comic relief more than anything else. It's one of those moments my particular scholarship organization tends to value more than others...these are the experiences that you tell in later years laughing around some drinks I suppose.
So, approximately two weeks ago a severe crisis occurred in my house: the internet went out. I don't know about anyone else but I start to have panic attacks when I am not immediately connected to the world wide web...not to mention that Skype and my other modes of communicating to the States goes out the window. Yes, I do have the 3G on my iPhone that I can actually steal for my computer but who knows how many Egyptian pounds that will be if I go over my data usage.
Now, mind you, the internet going out entirely or just being plain unstable is a relatively frequent event around these parts (not to mention daily power outages, water outages, or a loss of only half your power...no one has given me a decent explanation for that phenomenon yet). So, I called trusty LinkDSL to ask them to come fix my internet since this was obviously not one of these random outages that will eventually right itself. A few phone calls later I learn, much to my stupidity, that there is another phone bill I am supposed to have been paying the entire time I have lived here and finally Telecom Egypt decided to cut the line off entirely. No bill had ever come to the house, I don't ever use my land line in typical Generation Y fashion, and I had no idea I apparently had 9 months of phone bill to pay. Telecom Egypt refused to let LinkDSL repair my line until I paid the bill. Great.
The next day I had no classes (about 2 days later) I set off to the local Telecom Egypt office. There was a very polite lady working at the desk and I internally patted myself on the back that communication in Arabic seems relatively easy these days...until she told me my phone number does not exist. I assured her it did exist and I had been using DSL the entire time I had lived in Egypt. Are you new? No, I have lived here for 15 months. Are you sure this is your phone number? Yes, I am sure. Well it doesn't exist. Well I assure you it does because you guys cut off my line for not paying my bill. I don't see this number in the system.
I paused and threw my hands up. What am I supposed to do now? After some time another gentleman realized that since my bill was SO delinquent it was not in their system and I would have to go down to the Central office. Fantastic. I set off walking, my preferred form of transportation most of the time, and arrived at Central ready to confront the worst of bureaucracy. Little did I know...
After making my way through a series of the typical "No you need to speak to that person" I finally found someone who could help me and confirmed that my phone number did in fact exist. He pulled up my bill and sent me to separate desk to pay. Shockingly enough, the 9 month bill was only around 150 LE (about 25 bucks). Talk about breaking the bank. After I paid I returned to the first desk and was informed that my phone should be restored the next day. If not, call and give them this confirmation number. I felt victory in my grasp and made my way back home on foot. In the meantime, a putrid green Volkswagen bug (its always the men with the hideous cars who do this) started following me. I watched out of my peripheral vision as what looked to be a dingy older man yelled at me and told me to get in his car. I tried my usual tactic of ignoring the situation. I thought he had gone until I realized he had intersected my path at the next intersection to try for round two. I signaled something that could be translated as "Get the eff away from me, I am not interested." Stumbling to go around the car I lost my footing for a bit and got one of the many shards of glass covering Cairo sidewalks stuck in my sandal and cut open my foot. I pulled it out and kept walking angrily trying to get away from the jerk. He tried one last time to intercept me and I lost all composure or knowledge of Arabic. But I think my aggressive English needs no translation here. He finally left and I made it back to my house thinking of my friend's horrific story about how she cut her foot in Cairo and almost died of staff infection before reaching the US. Much peroxide and washing ensued.
A day follows. Another day. Egypt's elections take place. People get beat, tear gassed, and shot in the street. Swell. My internet and phone line had still not been restored. I called Telecom Egypt with my trusty confirmation number. "What is this number? What does this mean?" says the voice at the other end of the line. Great. "No, you must come back to our office and show us you receipt." Even better, another trip to Central. I make the journey again with closed toed shoes, wary of green Volkswagens. This time I meet a very helpful and nice Mr. Khaled who is genuinely interested in resolving my problem. He goes through all sorts of activities, running from desk to desk, assuring me he will have it resolved immediately. After an hour he tells me to go home, my phone should work. If not, here's his cellphone number. Again I felt as though life-saving internet was almost in my grasp. I left cheerfully, though this time took a taxi.
The phone was not on. I waited. This is Egypt after all. I mean, AT&T isn't exactly the most customer friendly and responsive company on the planet either. After 2 hours I called Khaled who seemed confused and told me a technician would be on his way to resolve the issue. A technician never appeared and at this point, it was late into the evening. The next day I called LinkDSL to see if they would be able to get into Central now to resolve the internet. What does the light on your router say? No, no, you don't understand. Did you just listen to the story I told you? Madaam you must turn the router on and off so that the lights can reset. Dude, its not the router! Finally he said a technician would be en route. Well, better than nothing.
Later that afternoon my Arabic tutor was at the house when the technician from LinkDSL called back. Telecom Egypt says you have not paid your bill. No I assure you that I have paid it. Well they say you have not. You must come to the Central office. I looked at my tutor and asked with my body language if there was something wrong with my Arabic. No. Finally I just handed the phone to her because I was getting too frustrated to carry out a conversation that would be just as circular in English. Finally my tutor hangs up the phone and says we are going to Central NOW and she is coming with me. She was angrier than me with the situation at this point. I was thankful God had finally sent an angel to deal with the internet crisis. We jump in a taxi and I arrive at the Central office for the third time. This time we meet a very nice Miss Yasmeen who tells me that she called my land telephone number and spoke with someone on the other end of the line who told her the phone worked. What? I am the only person who lives in my house! She then proceeded to dial the number and began talking to a man who was supposedly answering the phone in my house. At this point I just threw my arms up in confusion.
"What is your phone number again?" I told her and she looked at the receipt. Oh, there was one wrong number in the phone number that I had paid. It just so happens that phone had been turned off too. So, I had paid some grateful Egyptian family's phone bill and now their phone was working. Can I get that money back? Well, you will have to make a deal with the other customer. I told her I didn't care about that right now, could I PLEASE just get my phone turned on. No, not today, it was past the hour for being able pay one's bill. It is 330 pm. You will have to come back tomorrow. I have been here three times. I am sorry but I promise if you come back tomorrow it will work. At this point my Arabic tutor exploded and demanded that something be done so I did not have to come back. She would not take no for an answer. Eventually we decided I would leave the money and Khaled would pay the bill himself with my money when he came in for work the next morning. Yasmeen would call Khaled to tell him the deal. Tomorrow, God willing, my phone would work. It had been a week since I tried to pay the bill the first time.
Tomorrow came. In paranoia I called Khaled at noon to see if the bill had been paid. He didn't know what I was talking about. I told him the story and he said he would call Yasmeen to see where she put the money. I called back a half hour later and he said Yasmeen was not answering her phone. I decided to walk back to Telecom Egypt for the 4th time. When I arrived Khaled smiled and handed me my change. Paying the bill had been resolved since I had last spoken to him. What more could he do for me. Turn the phone ON. Well it is Thursday and the weekend is coming up. NO, I AM NOT LEAVING UNTIL MY PHONE IS TURNED ON. This is not my job. I AM STILL NOT LEAVING UNTIL MY PHONE IS TURNED ON. Realizing that this crazy American girl was dead serious he finally cut a few corners and said that after an hour the phone would be turned on from Central. Great.
Back at home, one hour later, the phone was still not on. I called Khaled. Oh, we have to send a technician to your house to turn on the line from there as well. When will this happen? God willing in a couple hours. Great. Finally, at 6pm on Thursday my phone line was restored. Sadly, the internet was not back. I made one last phone call to LinkDSL. No, no, no it's not my modem. Oh, well we don't work over the weekend so you will have to wait until Sunday. Sigh...oh, Egypt.
The good news is that my internet was restored that Sunday and the epic struggle ended.
I called my Grandmother and she gently chastised me with "Where have you been? You have not called."
"You don't even want to know..."
And as a blanket notice: my foot healed fine.
So, approximately two weeks ago a severe crisis occurred in my house: the internet went out. I don't know about anyone else but I start to have panic attacks when I am not immediately connected to the world wide web...not to mention that Skype and my other modes of communicating to the States goes out the window. Yes, I do have the 3G on my iPhone that I can actually steal for my computer but who knows how many Egyptian pounds that will be if I go over my data usage.
Now, mind you, the internet going out entirely or just being plain unstable is a relatively frequent event around these parts (not to mention daily power outages, water outages, or a loss of only half your power...no one has given me a decent explanation for that phenomenon yet). So, I called trusty LinkDSL to ask them to come fix my internet since this was obviously not one of these random outages that will eventually right itself. A few phone calls later I learn, much to my stupidity, that there is another phone bill I am supposed to have been paying the entire time I have lived here and finally Telecom Egypt decided to cut the line off entirely. No bill had ever come to the house, I don't ever use my land line in typical Generation Y fashion, and I had no idea I apparently had 9 months of phone bill to pay. Telecom Egypt refused to let LinkDSL repair my line until I paid the bill. Great.
The next day I had no classes (about 2 days later) I set off to the local Telecom Egypt office. There was a very polite lady working at the desk and I internally patted myself on the back that communication in Arabic seems relatively easy these days...until she told me my phone number does not exist. I assured her it did exist and I had been using DSL the entire time I had lived in Egypt. Are you new? No, I have lived here for 15 months. Are you sure this is your phone number? Yes, I am sure. Well it doesn't exist. Well I assure you it does because you guys cut off my line for not paying my bill. I don't see this number in the system.
I paused and threw my hands up. What am I supposed to do now? After some time another gentleman realized that since my bill was SO delinquent it was not in their system and I would have to go down to the Central office. Fantastic. I set off walking, my preferred form of transportation most of the time, and arrived at Central ready to confront the worst of bureaucracy. Little did I know...
After making my way through a series of the typical "No you need to speak to that person" I finally found someone who could help me and confirmed that my phone number did in fact exist. He pulled up my bill and sent me to separate desk to pay. Shockingly enough, the 9 month bill was only around 150 LE (about 25 bucks). Talk about breaking the bank. After I paid I returned to the first desk and was informed that my phone should be restored the next day. If not, call and give them this confirmation number. I felt victory in my grasp and made my way back home on foot. In the meantime, a putrid green Volkswagen bug (its always the men with the hideous cars who do this) started following me. I watched out of my peripheral vision as what looked to be a dingy older man yelled at me and told me to get in his car. I tried my usual tactic of ignoring the situation. I thought he had gone until I realized he had intersected my path at the next intersection to try for round two. I signaled something that could be translated as "Get the eff away from me, I am not interested." Stumbling to go around the car I lost my footing for a bit and got one of the many shards of glass covering Cairo sidewalks stuck in my sandal and cut open my foot. I pulled it out and kept walking angrily trying to get away from the jerk. He tried one last time to intercept me and I lost all composure or knowledge of Arabic. But I think my aggressive English needs no translation here. He finally left and I made it back to my house thinking of my friend's horrific story about how she cut her foot in Cairo and almost died of staff infection before reaching the US. Much peroxide and washing ensued.
A day follows. Another day. Egypt's elections take place. People get beat, tear gassed, and shot in the street. Swell. My internet and phone line had still not been restored. I called Telecom Egypt with my trusty confirmation number. "What is this number? What does this mean?" says the voice at the other end of the line. Great. "No, you must come back to our office and show us you receipt." Even better, another trip to Central. I make the journey again with closed toed shoes, wary of green Volkswagens. This time I meet a very helpful and nice Mr. Khaled who is genuinely interested in resolving my problem. He goes through all sorts of activities, running from desk to desk, assuring me he will have it resolved immediately. After an hour he tells me to go home, my phone should work. If not, here's his cellphone number. Again I felt as though life-saving internet was almost in my grasp. I left cheerfully, though this time took a taxi.
The phone was not on. I waited. This is Egypt after all. I mean, AT&T isn't exactly the most customer friendly and responsive company on the planet either. After 2 hours I called Khaled who seemed confused and told me a technician would be on his way to resolve the issue. A technician never appeared and at this point, it was late into the evening. The next day I called LinkDSL to see if they would be able to get into Central now to resolve the internet. What does the light on your router say? No, no, you don't understand. Did you just listen to the story I told you? Madaam you must turn the router on and off so that the lights can reset. Dude, its not the router! Finally he said a technician would be en route. Well, better than nothing.
Later that afternoon my Arabic tutor was at the house when the technician from LinkDSL called back. Telecom Egypt says you have not paid your bill. No I assure you that I have paid it. Well they say you have not. You must come to the Central office. I looked at my tutor and asked with my body language if there was something wrong with my Arabic. No. Finally I just handed the phone to her because I was getting too frustrated to carry out a conversation that would be just as circular in English. Finally my tutor hangs up the phone and says we are going to Central NOW and she is coming with me. She was angrier than me with the situation at this point. I was thankful God had finally sent an angel to deal with the internet crisis. We jump in a taxi and I arrive at the Central office for the third time. This time we meet a very nice Miss Yasmeen who tells me that she called my land telephone number and spoke with someone on the other end of the line who told her the phone worked. What? I am the only person who lives in my house! She then proceeded to dial the number and began talking to a man who was supposedly answering the phone in my house. At this point I just threw my arms up in confusion.
"What is your phone number again?" I told her and she looked at the receipt. Oh, there was one wrong number in the phone number that I had paid. It just so happens that phone had been turned off too. So, I had paid some grateful Egyptian family's phone bill and now their phone was working. Can I get that money back? Well, you will have to make a deal with the other customer. I told her I didn't care about that right now, could I PLEASE just get my phone turned on. No, not today, it was past the hour for being able pay one's bill. It is 330 pm. You will have to come back tomorrow. I have been here three times. I am sorry but I promise if you come back tomorrow it will work. At this point my Arabic tutor exploded and demanded that something be done so I did not have to come back. She would not take no for an answer. Eventually we decided I would leave the money and Khaled would pay the bill himself with my money when he came in for work the next morning. Yasmeen would call Khaled to tell him the deal. Tomorrow, God willing, my phone would work. It had been a week since I tried to pay the bill the first time.
Tomorrow came. In paranoia I called Khaled at noon to see if the bill had been paid. He didn't know what I was talking about. I told him the story and he said he would call Yasmeen to see where she put the money. I called back a half hour later and he said Yasmeen was not answering her phone. I decided to walk back to Telecom Egypt for the 4th time. When I arrived Khaled smiled and handed me my change. Paying the bill had been resolved since I had last spoken to him. What more could he do for me. Turn the phone ON. Well it is Thursday and the weekend is coming up. NO, I AM NOT LEAVING UNTIL MY PHONE IS TURNED ON. This is not my job. I AM STILL NOT LEAVING UNTIL MY PHONE IS TURNED ON. Realizing that this crazy American girl was dead serious he finally cut a few corners and said that after an hour the phone would be turned on from Central. Great.
Back at home, one hour later, the phone was still not on. I called Khaled. Oh, we have to send a technician to your house to turn on the line from there as well. When will this happen? God willing in a couple hours. Great. Finally, at 6pm on Thursday my phone line was restored. Sadly, the internet was not back. I made one last phone call to LinkDSL. No, no, no it's not my modem. Oh, well we don't work over the weekend so you will have to wait until Sunday. Sigh...oh, Egypt.
The good news is that my internet was restored that Sunday and the epic struggle ended.
I called my Grandmother and she gently chastised me with "Where have you been? You have not called."
"You don't even want to know..."
And as a blanket notice: my foot healed fine.
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