The Shimmy to Delhi

I spent a little less than a week in Cairo when I first got there. My original impressions of the place were definitely positive ones. It is a different world, there is no doubt about that, but I am reminded more and more of how people are all the same really, despite their nuances.

I arrived in Cairo from Jordan late in the evening and was picked up at the airport by Ryan and my new boss Philippe. Even though they don't encourage the expats to drive, Philippe does. We wove through the mayhem, locally known as traffic, back to the house of Ryan dodging people, cars and animals all along the way. Ryan's house is in the expat community called Maadi, on the south end of Cairo. It is a part of town that is a little quieter and quite a bit more green. Road 23 where he lives was recently turned into a one way street and at one end it is now used as a garbage dump. The wind gathers paper and plastic there and humans account for the rest. It isn't as bad as it sounds. The traffic there does what it wants and you play frogger everywhere you go, crossing between the honking, zooming cars.

The next night we met up for dinner at a Swiss restaurant with Chef Philippe and Catherine from Human Resources. Over fondue, sausage and Italian Falanghina I learned a bit more about the situation into which I am diving. The time table, the players involved, and the challenges posed. At this stage I will refrain from details but lets just say it is exciting and kinda freaky all at once!

The following night a friend of Ryan's came over for dinner with his wife and their wild little kid. The wife is German and Jean Carlos is Italian. He is the executive chef of the Four Seasons in Cairo. He has been there for 3 years and had a lot of funny anecdotes and pieces of wisdom in regards to how things go there. The cultural differences of the staff are the biggest puzzle of them all there...and combined with a dicey sourcing/purchasing situation, present the juggernaut of our project.

Yesterday afternoon I cabbed to the airport in Cairo to take a pair of flights over to New Delhi in India. The check-in process in the Middle East is quite different...you basically bum-rush the security people and they stuff your bags onto the conveyer belt through the x-ray machine while simultaneously frisking you crisply. Some little Indonesian dude tried to walk off with my bag and I gave him my scary infidel face and he gave it back. Then you check in, after security, and go through passport control on the way to the gate.

I flew through Abu Dhabi in the United Arab Emirates, which was interesting. There are all different sorts of garb that people in the Middle East wear and I am starting to get a feel for where people are from by looking at it. Much can be known about a person by the choices they make with their clothes, but again I will wait until I know more to blab too much about it. It is a trip to see so many women fully covered in this way. Some of them wear black, full-body robes that cover everything except for a tiny strip across the eyes. Many women wear very colorful robes and headscarves and accessorizing is big business for many muslim women. The clothes of the men and women look very comfortable but I can't imagine that being covered head to toe in black would feel to good in the glaring Cairo sun in mid-July.

In Abu Dhabi I could barely keep my eyes open. I hadn't slept much the night before and was going down. I was on the ground for only an hour and then back on the same plane on the way here to India. I am not going to bitch about it but I must have some shitty plane Karma coming my way right now. All the flights from the States and then the ones from Cairo to here have been little-shrieking-kid heavy. Then the final one last night, I was placed next to a huge Albanian dude with what sounded like the death-rattle in this chest. If they didn't delay him for questioning in the Swine Flu station when we landed then I don't know what the hell they were doing. Hopefully I am free of death-rattle symptoms. Time will tell.

I landed at 4am at Indira Ghandi airport and passed passport control and the Swine Flu screening area with zero problems. Got my bags and changed money, no worries. Then I pay for a pre-paid airport taxi and the mayhem begins. You pay for it in the terminal and then take the ticket they hand you out to a bunch of random Indian dudes who claim you and take you where you want to go in their beater cabs. I know they all have their own agendas...that is pretty common in the third world airports regarding gringos...but this time it was downright hilarious. This tall guy with a sweet child molester-style mustache told me he was my driver. He looked at the ticket and said no problem, crumpling the ticket in his hand. Then he lead me out some side tunnel of the airport onto the highway that ran by it! I was on my way back when he chased me down, 'Sir, sir! This is how we do!' We were walking down the median of the highway and I was not having it but he was on the phone calling his buddy and before I knew there was a cab there. They told me that this way they avoid the parking lot fee. Ha ha. I had to laugh. You just never know where this shit is going to fly in at you from. But I got in the cab, which was so old that it barely moved and we slowly made our way into the city.

For those who have been to India, they know that there is no explaining it. It is the craziest mass of humanity one could imagine. I have seen a lot of poverty around the globe, but this is other level stuff. As you enter Delhi at 5am there are people sleeping and waking up everywhere. People sleeping in the gravel strip between the lanes of gnarly traffic, on cardboard or plywood planks in the ditches. Fires burn in the streets and cows walk about as normally as the people. The traffic itself is a comedy. I actually really love it! My driver was not familiar with the labyrinthine area surrounding Pahar Ganj and so predictably we spent about 45 minutes asking about where my guesthouse was before defaulting to the old "i am pretty sure your guesthouse is full anyway' line. We woke up some grungy dudes in a tourist office at about 530 and he tried to convince me the street has no access because of construction. Standard shit. I ended up getting a tuk tuk to take me there.

Some of the rooms here a bit like a prison cells. 'Spartan' is the word the guide books use. It really is comedic. The backpacker game. The touts swarm down onto you wanting to 'help you' (e.g. milk you for whatever possible) and then discard you when you are on the way out. They don't really like it when you play ball and say no to everything. I had this guy following me around while I tried to check email and make a couple calls. He wanted to see everything I did so that he could offer some other 'service'. But that is all part of the game.

I ate lunch in my room and I shit you not it was all but free. I had a huge platter of food, pepsi and water for about two bucks. And it was real good too. We'll see how long it is until the gastro-intestinal fallout begins. It is a ticking clock for sure. But I have to say that I like the intriguing nature of this place. Its smells and flavors and colors and sounds. The chaos and diarrea are all worth it in the long run.