After about a week or so here, I think I'm finally able to collect some of my thoughts.

I'm sitting here in Egistone Internet Cafe in Zemalek, the northern section of an upscale island in the middle of the Nile. Next door is a small mosque, and neary are dozens of small restaurants, shops, and travel agencies. The neighborhood is leafy and, for Cairo, relatively quiet -- hence the good folks at the Lonely Planet termed it "continental" in character. And indeed, several European embassies can be found here, as well as the American University dorms. The stores cater to rich young Cairenes, most of whom are dressed in the latest European styles (although quite a few young women still wear the hijab). After an exhausting week of traipsing off to various tourist sites, Zemalek feels almost like home.

On seemingly every block is an Egyptian policeman in a pristine white uniform, holding a rifle or an AK-47. Knowing this would be the case, I had thought going into the trip that I would be bothered by their presence; however, they have almost always been friendly and welcoming to me. Apparently since the 1997 attacks in Luxor, tourists venturing out to rural areas are routinely accompanied by police escorts. I can imagine many Egyptians resenting the fact that so many policemen are there to protect foreigners--one could extend this resentment to the government of Egypt itself and its willingness to support American interests. Nevertheless, I saw few signs of anger at Americans or at the Egyptian government. Other than one bit of graffitti advocating a boycott of American products, my visit to al-Azhar Mosque at 8 am on Sunday morning was the only flash of open anti-American sentiment I've witnessed, as the muezzin (my tour guide) nodded approvingly when I lied and told him I was Canadian, saying "America no!" Mostly, everyone just seemed to be going about their daily lives. Every once in a while as I was walking around, someone (usually a teenaged boy) would say "Hello. Welcome to Egypt!"

Cairo, it must be said, is a big and boisterous place. It's also filthy; a thick film of grime seems to cover nearly every surface of the city, and the air is toxic. While there are some oases of cleanliness and peace to be found, these are few and far between. Signs at tourist sites, if they even exist, are usually obscured by dust so that even new signs look like they've been there for some time. Generally speaking, most Cairenes seem to have either resigned themselves to the dust and dirt, or don't notice it. It's part of the urban fabric, as is the constant sound of (usually dented) cars honking as they weave in and out of the omnipresent traffic jams. Merely crossing the street is an adventure.

This is the first time I've traveled alone as well as the longest amount of time I've spent in a truly developing country, and I have to say that I'm relieved to be returning home tomorrow. Cairo has been overwhelming. I'm actually somewhat disappointed in myself, having traveled extensively and therefore thought of myself as a "good traveler." But never have I felt so much like a stranger in a strange land. And never have I felt more like an American. Almost everywhere I went (except for the major landmarks), I was the only foreigner, and I've met very few Egyptians with sufficient English skills to allow for conversation much beyond "Where are you from? Welcome to Cairo?" Those that did speak English almost invariably saw me as a mark, and more than once I think I drastically overpaid for this or that. I presume that learning Egyptian Arabic is the key to liberation in this regard, and I look forward to not being a tourist when I return in January.

Judging solely by appearances, I have to say that Cairo looks like it has a long way to go before it can be considered "on the move." If anything, it seems that everything was built several decades ago, since which time progress has stopped. A great deal of the building stock of the city is decaying, and even presumably important places like Ministry buildings and the airport smack of neglect. I imagine that the city's pervasive smog, which mercilessly blackens all outdoor surfaces, leads Cairenes to say "why bother?" One can find remnants such as handicapped signs on some sidewalk ramps, that speak of failed attempts to make the city more inhabitable, but neglect is the operative word.