Before coming to Egypt, I did my research and talked to people about how things operate here. I have therefore avoided most cultural faux pas. I can navigate taxis, mosques, restaurants, and classrooms without any trouble. I’ve learned, however, that it’s not good manners to worry too much. In my experience so far, appearing worried about things that are perceived as “no big deal” just makes you seem uptight and overly anxious- in other words, a killjoy. One should let things happen and not get upset if (and when) they go wrong.
This take-it-easy attitude carries over into academics as well. Even regarding something “serious” like a research paper, nothing is definite. When I was assigned my first paper of the semester, I asked when it would be due. I was asked in return, “Well, when do you think it should be due?” I like having a say in my classes, so I don’t mind this system at all.
Turns out, life is more enjoyable when you’re not adhering to a schedule. Egypt’s “café culture” is one of the things I love most about it. We eat dinner at ten or eleven at night, and talk, and linger, and talk some more. It’s so fun and relaxing that, while I may be exhausted the next day, I never regret staying up late. After all, those are the conversations and people I’ll always remember. However, I have to make up for that time somehow. This entails rolling out of bed (sometimes literally, as my roommate can attest to) and dashing out the door with a go-cup of coffee to catch the bus to school. Avoiding scalding myself with said coffee, while simultaneously avoiding the piles of garbage in the road, is especially difficult at 7 a.m. I eat lunch in one of my 10-minute gaps between classes, which means wolfing down a falafel as I run across campus. Eating is supposed to be leisurely and with friends, never alone and certainly never in a rush.
Egyptian students are, let’s say, not very concerned with coming to class on time. While I don’t think it’s good to come late to school, I’m already more relaxed and I find myself bending time as well. Last week I made dinner plans and came late to the restaurant. (In my defense, I was engrossed in Arabic homework.) One of my friends greeted me with, “You’re late; you’re a real Egyptian now.” “Ma3lish,” I responded.