Mmmm, Coffee

There's something so familiar about coffee. It's one of my go-to comforts, especially after having worked in a café for 5 years. The smells, the sounds, the murmur of customers...  I often crave afternoons just sitting in a coffee shop. 

I'm in one today, The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf, "born and brewed in Southern California" according to my plastic cup, but somehow managed to sprout on a tiny corner of City Center mall at the edge of Cairo in Nasr City. I could breathe in this aroma of freshly ground beans all day. 

I came here to enjoy my favorite creature comfort and spend the price of 5 bowls of Koshary on one iced mocha latte, but it's providing me with much needed head space. I'm waiting on my friend to finish an informational interview and until my phone starts buzzing and playing "Com você," I have an unknown amount of time on my hands to contemplate.

Egypt, after eight months, is tragically beautiful, cracked, flawed, hotter than I could have imagined, frustrating, alive, pulsing, volatile, behind the times, dusty, lovely, romantic at all the wrong times, hilarious at all the right ones, and so often I feel like me and the donkey carts are swimming through mud in our attempts at progress: me, wishing reliable internet was more readily available and them probably longing for their owners to discover flat bed pick-up trucks. I saw one particular donkey today biting his cohort's ear in hot frustration, the latter barred from escape by the attached wooden cart and the three surrounding cars parked every which-a-damn way. As often, I felt sorry for the beasts, languishing in the heat, lazily flicking flies from their ears. I, myself, was languishing in the back of a vinyl upholstered taxi cab whose driver, like so many others, was declining to turn on the AC. This, of course, before my relaxation time in the blessed, cool oasis of The Coffee Bean. 

At The Pump

It was 11:43 in the morning, and the gas station still was not open. Mini-buses and cabs and mass transit vehicles were lined up almost to Ramses Square which is approximately a mile distant. It was hot, even in the shade, and the drivers were camped out on the sidewalk on their grass mats, set in for the long haul because until the attendants pulled down the barriers to the tanks, the line wasn't going anywhere. The drivers seemed to be accustomed to this routine. Some had coolers and water and an unending supply of cigarettes. 

I imagine the States looked something like this during the gas crisis of the 1970s. I've seen black and white photographs of cars lined up at the pump. Of course, life here now is a bit different than it was then and there, so I'm not sure if the comparison is quite accurate. At times, I get the impression they're all living on a tight rope. Most of the problems are attributed to the new people in power. If the lights go out, it's because of Morsi. If traffic is backed up a mile in both directions, it's because of Morsi. If a dog leaves reeking poo in front of your doorstep, it's because of Morsi.

For lack of knowing a good way to end this post, I'll leave it at that.