I am a navigational genius

In my usual fashion, I didn’t prepare ANYTHING for my trip to Egypt. (I worry about the stupidest things but then completely neglect details about things that actually matter) I didn’t have a guidebook, anything to do, even the address of the person I was staying with (Kaitlyn---a saint) until the day before I left. In fact, I never actually had her address. All I had as I left alone for Egypt (again, not knowing Arabic) was, “tell the cab driver, ‘Sheria Sheik Maroof. Go to Koshery Abu Tarek—a restaurant, take a R then walk all the way down the street. It is the last building on your L across from the mosque.”

So I manage to get to Casablanca, transferring once in Ain Seba and I even get on the right plane (applause welcome). After the night passes (night 2 of no sleep—there were 3 3 more in the next week. Not kidding. We’re not talking about nights with almost no sleep.), the plane lands and I get off. Kaitlyn had mentioned in an email that someone might pick me up from the airport, but since then I didn’t have the chance to check my email, so I didn’t know if someone would pick me up or if I would have to find my way. I waited a few minutes looking for people who were looking for people, but then I decided to go. I overpaid the cab driver, and after asking me to marry him, we arrived at Sheria Sheik Maroof. Or close to it. Goodbye. “No tip for me? Baksheesh?” Of course. So I get out of the cab. I am exhausted. I look around for a restaurant. Hmmm. I start walking so as to try not to look conspicuous (right.), but end up asking a guy for Koshery Abu Tarek. He points me in the right direction. By this time it has occurred to me, that “a right after Koshery Abu Tarek” would depend completely on where one was dropped off, and though a nice neighborhood, it is kind of windy and full of allies I don’t want to find myself lost in right off the bat. I’m looking around to see if I can see any minarettes of a mosque, and a man asks if he can help me. YES! Thank heavens. So I ask for the nearby mosque. He doesn’t know (or understand?). I ask for a nearby phone where I can make a call. He pulls out his. We spend like 10 minutes trying to dial Kaitlyn’s number. No luck. The man won’t take any money (dear sweet man). But I’m a little worried. What if I can’t find her apartment? What do I do? Anyway, someone else is able to point me in the direction of “the mosque.” Okay, so I walk into the last building on the left of the street. I do NOT think Kaitlyn lives here. No, as a piece of the ceiling falls off. No, I don’t think anyone does. So some friendly guy comes and asks what I am looking for. I ask if there is an apartment building nearby. “A hotel?” he asks. “No, an apartment. I am staying with a friend here.” “Oooooh, come with me.” So I go with the man (around the corner I might add. This wasn’t in the directions I was given….). He takes me up six flights of stairs. It’s a hotel. So again, I explain that I don’t need a hotel, that I am staying with a friend who lives here. “Ooooh! Sorry. Follow me.” Another building. Another hotel. (Am I speaking clearly? What is the deal? I am getting a little frustrated here, but still in relatively good humor). So the concierge of the hotel ends up taking my notes and decides we should back track all the way. We go downstairs, but I see no reason to backtrack all the way to Sheik Maroof (especially with him, no sooner than we stepped from the hotel, I get, “Are you married? Boyfriend? You are very beautiful…”), so I ask the nearest person I see if there are apartments nearby. An unbelievable stroke of luck. People live in THIS building. “Who?” the man asks. “Uuum, Kaitlyn.” –silence- I try again, “Amereeka?” “Yes.” I was soooo happy to walk up those stairs and knock on that door (of course not before saying goodbye to my friend. “Do you have phone number? Email? I would like to see you again. Later today?” I gave him my email and told him I’d see him later maybe. Ensha’ala).