Cabalot

It is a kind of dance in which one of the dancers...."me", cannot hear the music or knows the steps.


I have arrived at Cairo airport from Zurich and have little idea of where I need to go in Cairo, but at least have some vague notion of how much I should pay.




I am approached again and again by one questionably sincere man after the next.





I dodge and plod on pulling heavy bags.



You cannot help but feel like live bait in a great sea of sharks. But the truth is tamer and certainly there is no danger. You may loose your money but not your life.

A price is finally agreed upon. Who knows whether or not it is fair. It is no longer at least outrageous.


I am handed off now from one man to another. On my third exchange I proceed

into the heart of Cairo.

I will take many trips here in this great capital. Many times the driver cannot speak English, or simply does not know where I want to go.



A solution presents itself when stuck in interminable traffic.

Ask the man in the next cab. Most likely if he doesn't know he will like at least to have a chat.



You can almost wish at moments like this how great it would be to reach out and hand them a cup of tea.


He is pleased, I am pleased, we all are

pleased.



There is another option of course, and that is to simply pull over to the side of the road and ask for help.

People and life move here at quite a different tempo.

People do want to help.

You can get to your destination.

Just be patient.

Maybe everyone will smile