Cairo,the 20th March, 2011

Why do I love Egypt - PART *who s counting?

I was just heading for a meeting with a portuguese journalist (dear Paulo, we were meant not to meet each other, the Tarot must have told us that if we had asked it!) at the Hussein.

How did I end up almost getting engaged or lost in the city with a deaf-mute taxi driver?!

Well, Egypt has always been full of misteries and these are only a few ones to add to the unsolvable questions this ancient country carries on its back.

I left home, after cancelling a meeting in order to meet Paulo, and was lucky enough to get into a taxi with a deaf-mute driver who also didn t know how to write or read, as I ended up understanding.

I thought it was strange that I got no answer to my "Salam ualekum" when entering the taxi but, hey, you do not always find polite people in this crazy town!

Yet it didn t take me long to understand that this poor man could not speak or listen as he headed, relaxed and convict, to any direction with a soft smile on his face that disarmed me and let me unable to stop the car and get another taxi.

How am I supposed to explain where I wish to go to someone who doesn t hear or speak and cannot read any paper I may write on?!

My heart was with this taxi driver, though.I didn t want to quit on him and get out of his car, just because he could not hear or speak.

Yes, I was getting lost and I had no idea if I would reach my final, expected destination but my conscious would get too heavy on me if I took another taxi. I wanted HIM to achieve his goal, to feel confident and happy to see that he COULD work as a taxi driver, or anything else he wished for, and that Nature s less than generous hand would not stop him from having a "normal life".

I almost had a nervous break down on my way to "god knows where" but I just wouldn t have the cold heart to step out of the taxi just because he couldn t hear or speak. I wouldn t.

He smiled, victorious, when he finally arrived to the Hussein. He also gestured at me with his hand, asking for my approval. "Am I a good driver?" - he seemed to be saying within his soundless world of hopes.

I gestured and smiled back: "Yes, you are a GREAT driver."

And the most unforgettable human connections happen like this.

We made our fair amount of sight seeing because he was driving aimlessly and, God knows how, I managed to mimic the directions I wanted.

After a long, LONG drive that seemed to end in Alexandria, I got to the Hussein around 22.30h.

No tourist in sight and lots of strange people in the streets, mostly men with black, fat moustaches that pointed at me like swords cutting through silk.

Paulo had not arrived yet so I searched for a coffee shop to sit and wait, until he came.

I found a cozy place where they served me "sahlab". The owner and the son of the owner sat in front of me, staring and commenting about all the beauty they saw in me as if I was not there, listening. They were analyzing a landscape, a piece of land, a house with deluxe finishemenst, not a PERSON.

The son of the coffee s owner then went up and passed in front of me like a stressed peacock several times, checking if I was noticing him. The loving father was STILL staring at me, watching me drink my warm and sticky "sahlab".

I am used to the staring, any ways! I am also used to the comments of men and the way they ignore my feelings about it. My body seems to be public property they analyze and comment on in order to see if it s a good investment for the future.

I tried to pay and leave but they refused. Then I left the money on the table and headed to the place where I was supposed to meet my journalist fellow, Paulo.

I noticed I was being followed. It was the son of the coffee s owner.

When I stopped at the arranged meeting place, he started to make signals asking if he could get close and talk to me. I said "NO" and pushed him away. Or so I thought.

Suddenly, after a few painful and long minutes, the father of my stalker arrived and they both came to me with a marriage proposal. According to the father, his son fell in love the moment I entered their coffee-shop and cannot live without me.

Talk about egyptian crap!

How on earth can someone love a woman from the moment he sees her and how come he cannot live without her, even when he never spoke to her or has any idea of who she is?!

Come on!

If they had told me the young guy has the hotties for me and wishes to take me to bed, then I would believe it. I would still slap them both at their dirty faces but I would have believed them.

Now...proposing me marriage after seeing me for the first time in his life and stalking me down the street for a pair of minutes?!

Come on, guys...please give me a break over here...

Where are we, really?

Sometimes, I feel I landed on the moon or another even stranger place and none of these creatures are for real.

The father was insisting and the son had the sad, melancholic face of a "Calimero". I was infuriated, then smiling and cracking into deep laughter and then infuriated once more.

They got stuck to my coat and would not let go. My journalist pal didn t show up and I, literally, ran away from my prospective husband.

Then the taxi driver who took me home wanted to charge me three times more than the right fair. I didn t need to fight a lot. I guess my face said it all.

A little word from him trying to steal an extra pound from me would easily make me forget that someone called Buddha once existed on this earth.

All this happened in a couple of hours when I was just supposed to meet a journalist.

Don t you EVER ask me why I love Egypt.

DEAL?!