The {…} that ate Cincinnati

I swear it was eight inches long, a blood-red color, and coming for my foot with little clicking skittery noises, determined to munch my toenails off and otherwise cause me all manner of buggy evilness. Actually, it was really only an inch or two long and probably more interested in escaping L.’s Boot Heel of Death than in nibbling on my toes, heading for the relative safety of underneath the bed… but alas, the boot heel won out, and the cockroach became nothing more than a slightly greasy smear on the carpet. Hey, you get what you pay for, and we didn’t pay much. What we did get was a balcony overlooking the Mediterranean, which, except for the four-lane (-ish…Egypt doesn’t really use lanes) road separating it from us, was right on our doorstep. Making it across the road is a bit of a trick, but having been forged in the fires of Cairo traffic, we were undaunted by the hindrance of four to six lanes of swerving taxis and braved across to the promenade.

Michael Palin called Alexandria “Cannes…with acne.” The slightly more charitable moniker is the “pearl of the Mediterranean”, and the city undoubtedly has a Mediterranean flair to it, marked only by the occasional minaret to show it’s still in Egypt. Alexandria has several things that Cairo does not: little bustle, less traffic, clean streets, clean air, rain, a coast. We partook enthusiastically of these things, spending hours at a coastside café with lemonade and shisha, exploring the catacombs, recovering from food poisoning (ish…no one’s quite sure what caused ‘it’ or what ‘it’ was, aside from icky and thankfully not for me) on plastic chairs on the beach after a wonderful breakfast of couscousy, or dinking around the art exhibit at the new library of Alexandria (a giant testament to the fundamental split in Egypt: either things are completely unbelievably undeveloped, along the lines of potholed streets and donkey carts, or else they are completely new, shiny and automated, like the sumptuous new library).

Broadly generalizing, one could say the people in Alex are friendlier than in Cairo, and indeed, the unusual trio of three westerners, two of whom were unveiled women, attracted considerable attention, curiosity, leering, funny comments. “I looooooove you!” called one man from across the street; the most frequent comment was likely to be “you a lucky man!” comments directed at our sole male group member, and one youth insisted on introducing himself with the curious comment of “I am beautiful!” until we realized he was mixing up “I” and “you”, and what he intended was a compliment. We had groups of teenage girls stop us, ask us about ourselves, and introduce themselves—considerably more infrequent in Cairo—and had short but interesting conversations with various individuals. Unfortunately, while I now recognize the question of “do you speak Arabic,” I don’t know how to say, “I know Arabic like a marmot knows knitting,” instead only able to reply with shuwei shuwei (so so), which just gets me into trouble.

All in all, a fun adventure, a nice escape from Cairo—but to be honest, as much as I love the shore, I missed the bustle of Cairo. Just not the traffic or the air.

Obama will fix it

Perceptions on America’s new president in the Arab world

For many in Egypt and across the world, the new American President Barack Obama gives America’s image abroad a new lease on life—a new face, a new administration, and finally an opportunity to escape the catastrophic presidency of George W. Bush. However, the almost unqualified optimism, implying Obama will be able to fix everything from the global financial crisis, the protracted crisis in the Middle East and even the traffic in Cairo (the “Obama will fix it” mentality), is contrasted by the stark pessimism of “business as usual.”

Traffic in Cairo is a mixture between absolute mayhem and barely ordered chaos, either completely gridlocked or swerving among pedestrians at stomach-lurching speeds. The cause? Overcrowded, slow and limited public transportation, too many taxis, and highway construction composed of superhighways and resembling a giant bowl of spaghetti. The solution? “Obama will fix it.”

“Obama will fix it”

Obama ran his campaign on the slogan of “change,” and it is this promise which is so tantalizing both for Americans and Egyptians. For the Egyptians, and perhaps for Arabs and the world at large, Obama possesses several characteristics guaranteeing his success: in addition to his eloquent personal narrative and his call for “mutual respect” towards Muslims, Obama has the crucial qualification of simply not being former President Bush. As an added bonus, Obama has the important characteristics both of being black and having a middle name of Hussein, reminiscent of his father’s Muslim origins, and evidence he is not Just Another White President. The popular hope in the Arab world is that Obama will take the Middle East more seriously and more pragmatically, and use America’s considerable power and influence to evoke lasting change, or even more basically, to just stop making things worse. What Obama more broadly represents is also what many Arabs long for and are unable to achieve: peaceful and democratic regime change, the removal of an unpopular president and his replacement by a man with diverse and minority origins. This is the last vestige of the “American dream” where anything is possible, representing a testament to American vitality, a rejection of Bush’s policies and a willingness to break barriers and new ground.

“Business as usual”

On the other side of the coin, many Arabs see Obama’s administration (like any kind of traffic jam) as just a lot of horn honking and not a lot of forward progress. Just as it’s ridiculous to expect President Obama to fix the traffic problem in Cairo—anyone who has tried to get through Midan Ramses in rush hour will tell you that’s as close to impossible as it gets—many Arabs don’t expect the US foreign policy towards the Middle East to change significantly. Black skin and a Muslim middle name are insufficient qualifications for sensible foreign policy, and slogans of “change” are seen as just more rhetoric. The Egyptian daily Al-Ahram cautioned against undue enthusiasm: "We know the kind of pressure the Jewish lobby puts on the presidents in the United States and the degree of influence this minority exercises daily in the departments and organs of political decision-making," wrote Atef al-Gamry in an editorial.

According to this view, America, a constant and staunch ally of Israel, will continue in Bush’s footsteps, likely invade Iran and basically make a mess of the whole thing as his predecessor has done. More nuanced pessimists see little tangible change in Middle East policy, a likely repetition of anti-Arab rhetoric, continued support of Israel and an inability to see beyond the limited borders of American invested interest and knee-jerk anti-Islamism. Even a more charitable version suggests President Obama will be too busy mopping up the mess of the American domestic economy, the health care system, the financial system, the social security system, the housing markets, and whatever else has recently gone wrong domestically to be able to do much about Palestine, Iran, or anything else.

Bridging the gap

Egyptian and Arab intellectuals, while generally receptive of and positive towards Obama, have also clarified concrete expectations (some realistic, others not). Foremost on the agenda is a resolution of the Gaza crisis. In the “Obama will fix it” mentality, the new American president is expected to happily resolve a protracted conflict continuing for over fifty years, against whose bulwark previous onslaughts of American diplomacy from Kissinger to Clinton have tried their strength and failed. From the Arab perspective, any viable change in Middle East policy has to include a legitimate recognition of Arab grievances and concerns, and evidence a good-faith effort to take Arab concerns seriously, instead of the perceived blind alliance to Israel. Though pressure has been mounting on Obama to condemn Israel for its invasion of the Gaza Strip, the fact that he has not done so is seen by many as a continuation of previous unequivocal support for Israel. Given the exceptionally complicated and emotionally charged nature of the current conflict over Gaza, the ever-widening split among the Palestinian factions and its reflection among Arab and Islamic states, a solution will not come easily. But a clear break from “business as usual” can provide enough of an impetus to get the process started. Encouraging Arab states—several of whom are also allies of the US—to engage proactively in the peace process, ensuring good-faith consideration of Palestinian grievances and concerns and evidence that Israel’s alliance with the US runs both ways are as much of a “fix” as President Obama will likely be able to provide. Nevertheless, the continuing goodwill and optimism of the Arab public is contingent on President Obama’s initial actions towards the Middle East.

Already he seems to be on the right track. Obama’s first day in office was marked by a flurry of phone calls to leaders all across the Middle East (just imagine the size of his phone bill!), starting with Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas and including the leaders of Egypt, Israel and Jordan, reaffirming his “commitment to active engagement in pursuit of Arab-Israeli peace from the beginning of his term.” Additionally, a willingness to engage Iran as well as the emphasis on a “responsible” withdrawal from Iraq are two large steps in the right direction. Lastly, the appointment of George Mitchell as special envoy to the Middle East, a diplomatic heavyweight seen as neither pro-Israel nor pro-Palestinian, shows that Obama really is taking things seriously.

Most analysts, though not necessarily any individual off the street, understand the severity of the problems facing America’s new president at home and abroad, and don’t expect miracles—but they do have expectations. Broadly, President Obama needs make the Middle East a priority, work pragmatically and engage all sides to work collectively towards solutions in a number of areas, starting with Gaza, but also including Iran and its nuclear ambition, the American occupation of Iraq, relations with Syria, and support of democratization. These issues are crucially interlinked and good-faith effort in but one area could provide the US with the needed credibility to be taken seriously.

Inshallah bukra

“Egypt,” said my neighbor, a slender Chinese man, leaning across the row of chairs towards me, “is a timeless country.” It’s hard to dispute that. As one of the oldest (and the longest continuous history of a state) and culturally richest civilizations on earth, the Egyptians left their legacy in the form of opulent artifacts and an astounding cultural heritage, from the ancient pharaohs to the Roman, Arab, Ottoman, and modern leaders entrusted with these people and their past. It’s inconceivable how many centuries of habitation have shaped this place, how much time and history have flown down the Nile, made their marks and continued on (at least before the Aswan High Dam). Being here gives the sense of history, of a place progressively built long ago, of mosques and walls and fortresses—and also the sense of culture. Modern Egypt is juxtaposed atop the ancient ruins of former civilizations and more modern constructions, and most buildings in the older part of Cairo have been around three times as long as my country.

But what my neighbor meant was not the history but rather the punctuality, as the conference was running significantly late and our stomachs had informed us that lunch was long overdue. As the joke goes, the concept of punctuality can vary widly: German punctuality means five minutes early, Americans have five to ten minutes before it’s ‘late’ (although the cable guy is a law unto himself with his whole “Tuesday or Thursday between 8 AM and 12:30”), the French clock in about a quarter to a half hour or so after the meeting time (panne de réveil or embouteillage sur le trottoir). Don’t expect the Spaniards within forty-five minutes of when they’re supposed to be somewhere (and if you’re lucky, it’s not mañana)—and for the Arabs, it’s inshallah bukra: tomorrow, God willing.

DAS RAFAH-CROSSING: DIE POLITISCHE LAGE

DIPLOMATISCHE VORSCHLÄGE:

Die meisten diplomatischen Ansätze beruhen auf drei Hauptpunkte: Waffenstillstand seitens Hamas, Waffenstillstand mit möglichem vollständigem Abzug seitens Israel, und ein verbessertes Grenzregime (s.u.). Obwohl Ägypten durchaus das Recht hätte, die Grenze komplett oder begrenzt unilateral aufzumachen, zieht es Ägypten vor, sie geschlossen zu halten mit der Absicht, zu einem verbesserten Grenzregime zu gelangen. Ägypten hat drei Hauptobjektive: Versöhnung zwischen Hamas und Fatah mit Fatah bevorzugt; Stabilisierung Gazas, um eine Überquellung der Gewalt in die Sinai-Halbinsel zu vermeiden; und die Sicherstellung der Grenze bzw. der Übergängen zwischen dem Gazastreifen und Ägypten zu gewährleisten.


MÖGLICHKEIT 1. DIE GRENZE ÖFFNEN

Ägypten würde die Grenze bzw. den Grenzübergang Rafah für Gütertransport, begrenzten Personenverkehr oder ganz zu öffnen. Diese würde den praktischen Ansturm von Flüchtlingen, Konsumenten, Verletzten, und vielleicht auch Hamas-Kämpfern in Ägypten bedeuten. Ägypten hat auch angedeutet, es würde die Grenze nur unter Beobachtung von European Union Observers nach dem 2005 Abkommen öffnen. Einige Analytiker meinen, eine permanente Öffnung sei die einzige Möglichkeit für Hamas, den jetzigen Krieg zu überstehen und, noch wichtiger, in Zukunft sich unabhängig von Israel versorgen zu können—bref, es geht um die Existenz oder Überlebung vom Gazastreifen als (de facto) Staat (auch ohne hiermit eine Äußerung zur Rechtmäßigkeit des Gazastreifens als Staat treffen zu wollen).

Politische Auswirkungen: de facto Anerkennung von Hamas-Kontrolle des Gazastreifens. Ägypten beruft sich auf das 2005 Abkommen zwischen der PA und Israel, wonach die PA für die Kontrolle gazascherseits und Ägypten für seine Grenze verantwortlich ist. Nach dem Vertrag hat Hamas keinerlei Verpflichtung zur Grenzkontrolle, und daraufhin würde Ägypten entweder alleine für die Grenzsicherheit aufkommen oder einen expliziten Vertrag mit Hamas unterschreiben müssen und somit der Hamas de jure Anerkennung geben. Dies würde ferner zu einer Verschlimmerung des Streits zwischen Fatah (von Ägypten anerkannt) und Hamas (von Ägypten nicht anerkannt und mit der ägyptischen Widerstandspartei der Muslimischen Bruderschaft liiert) führen sowie gegen das 2005 Abkommen stoßen. Daraufhin wäre die politische Beziehung zwischen Israel und Ägypten verschlechtert. Einige Analytiker deuten an, Israel könne die Öffnung auf ägyptischer Seite als Ziel des Konflikts haben, um die Auswanderung oder Flucht der Bevölkerung voranzutreiben und die humanitäre und medizinische Verantwortung Ägypten zuzuschieben.

Sicherheitspolitische Auswirkungen: verstärkter Personenverkehr aus dem Gazastreifen könnte die Sicherheitslage auf ägyptischer Seite gefährden und ,,Terroristen“ könnten in Ägypten Unterschlupf finden. Ägypten wäre möglicherweise selbst gefährdet, und wäre für das Aufspuren von Terroristen oder Hamas-Zellen, für die Sicherheit auf eigener Seite sowie für die Grenze verantwortlich. Die Sicherheits- und Flüchtlingsprobleme wären also auf Ägypten verlagert, vor dem Hintergrund des 2008er Durchbruchs der Grenze (und des darauf folgenden Chaos) und den permanenten Flüchtlingslagern in Jordanien für Ägypten besonders unvorteilhaft.

Andere Auswirkungen: eine plötzliche Flut von Konsumenten aus dem Gazastreifen könnte die lokale Wirtschaft in eine Krise versetzen, z.B. zu Inflation, opportunistischen Preissteigerungen oder komplettem Ausverkauf Gebrauchsgüter führen. Diese sind bei der letzten Grenzöffnung in 2008 vorgekommen.


MÖGLICHKEIT 2: DIE GRENZE GESCHLOSSEN HALTEN

Ägypten würde sich weigern, die Grenze für Gütertransport oder Personenverkehr zu öffnen, und würde eine Einhaltung der Status quo bedeuten. Nach wie vor wäre die Grenze aber für humanitäre Hilfe und medizinische Versorgung passierbar. Die Grenze geschlossen zu halten wird im arabischen oder islamischen Raum als ,,Versagen“ Ägyptens angesehen, den Palästinensern beizustehen. Ägyptens Regierung wird Mitschuld und auch teilweise Mitverantwortung der Angriffe Israels vorgeworfen.

Politische Auswirkungen: Die Grenze geschlossen zu halten heißt auch für Ägypten, auf eine diplomatische Lösung zu bestehen und Hamas nicht direkt anzuerkennen, und hoffentlich den Streit zwischen Hamas und Fatah schlichten. Dies räumte auch die Möglichkeit ein, sich auf ein neues Grenzregime zu verständigen, die für Ägypten vorteilhafter wäre. Es würden keine verstärkten Flüchtlinge oder Sicherheitsprobleme auf ägyptischer Seite geben. Weil Hamas trotz allen noch auf Ägypten angewiesen ist (einziger Grenzübergang nicht unter der Krontolle Israels), könnte Ägypten vis-à-vis Hamas an Einfluss gewinnen sollte Ägypten dem Druck standhalten und die Grenze nicht öffnen.

Inlandspolitische Auswirkungen: Die große Sympathie der heimischen Bevölkerung Ägyptens mit der Lage der Palästinenser und (begrenzt) mit Hamas verstärkt die Unzufriedenheit mir der Regierung Ägyptens. Die muslimische Bruderschaft, offiziell in Ägypten verboten aber trotzdem der regierenden Partei der stärkste politische Konkurrenz, gewinnt an Beliebtheit und politischer Unterstützung nach dem ,,Versagen“ Ägyptens. Die Demonstrationen wurden in Ägypten von der muslimischen Bruderschaft aufgerufen und wurden als Anlass genommen, gegen die ägyptische Regierung im Allgemeinen zu protestieren. Einige Analytiker bezweifeln jedoch, inwiefern die Muslimische Bruderschaft (Ägypten) bzw die Hamas (international) wirklich an Macht gewonnen haben: Demonstrationen in Ägypten scheinen weder keinen sonderlichen Ausmaß anzunehmen noch in tiefe Kritik der Regierung zu wandeln, und international sehen viele arabische Staaten (insb. Jordanien, Saudi Arabien und Syrien) die Verbindung zwischen Hamas und Iran mit Skepsis.

Regionalpolitische Auswirkungen: Ägyptens langjährige Rolle als Streitschlichter im arabischen Raum und insbesondere zwischen Hamas und Fatah wird gefährdet als andere Staaten (insbesondere Iran) die Rolle der Regionalmacht einnehmen (wollen). Die muslimischen Länder teilen sich in zwei Gruppen auf: auf einer Seite stehen Ägypten, Jordanien (als Einzigen, die ein Friedensabkommen mit Israel unterschrieben haben), Saudi Arabien, und Palästinische Autorität (Fatah). Auf der anderen Seite stehen Iran, Hamas, Syrien und die regierenden Hezbollah in Libanon. Iran ist zu Ägyptens stärkstem Kritiker geworden und beschuldigt Ägypten, im jetzigen Konflikt mitgewirkt zu haben und dadurch Mitschuld zu tragen. Ägypten wurde schon weiträumig im Nahost kritisiert und könnte langfristig an politischen Einfluss und Regionalmacht verlieren, weil diese Beschuldung, ,,nichts“ gemacht zu haben, weitgehend auf Zustimmung in der Bevölkerungen trifft—dies bleibt aber noch unbewiesen.


MÖGLICHKEIT 3: EIN VERBESSERTES GRENZREGIME ERFINDEN

Ein besseres Grenzregime, wodurch Waffenschmuggel (und daher die Rakete, die aus dem Gazastreifen auf Israel gefeuert werden) besser verhindert werden kann, wird als diplomatischer Hebel verwendet. Europäische Diplomaten haben Hilfe angeboten, Waffenschmuggel zu verhindern und die Grenze besser zu kontrollieren.

Politischer Hintergrund: Israel hat den Gazastreifen angeblich angegriffen, um den ständigen Raketenabschuss aus dem Gazastreifen endgültig zu stoppen. Israel besteht auf eine bessere Grenzüberwachung, wodurch Hamas keine durch die Tunnel geschmuggelten Waffen und Rakete bekommt, als Grundbaustein eines möglichen Abkommens. Von der Hamas-Seite kommt der Vorwurf, Israel habe das 2005-Abkommen nicht eingehalten und die Grenze nicht vertragsgemäß geöffnet, erst weitgehend in einzeln Bestimmungen (z.B. 400 LKWs pro Tag waren bis Ende 2006 vorgesehen, jedoch beschränkte Israel dies auf 12 pro Tag, Grenzübergänge sollten offen sein, waren aber aus angeblichen Sicherheitsgründen geschlossen) und danach durch die völlige Blockade des Gazastreifens. Dies weist darauf hin, dass ein mögliches Waffenstillstandsabkommen oder gar ein Friedensabkommen die Aufhebung der Blockade wirtschaftlicher Güter beinhalten muss, um auf Akzeptanz von Hamas zu treffen. Deshalb ist die Rafah-Crossing besonders wichtig geworden, weil er der einzige nicht von Israel kontrollierte Grenzübergang zum Gazastreifen ist. Die Tunnel, die sowohl zur Waffenschmuggel als zur Lebensader der Palästinenser seit der Blockade gedient haben, sind dadurch zum Streitpunkt geworden. Auf ägyptischer Seite sind die Tunnel auch der wirtschaftliche Mittelpunkt der Grenzregion geworden, wobei dies offiziell weder gestattet noch anerkannt sind und keine größere Rolle in der Verhandlung zu spielen scheint.

Problemfeld 1: Wer ist für Gaza verantwortlich?
Das 2005 Abkommen wurde zwischen der Palästinischeren Autorität (PA) und Israel mit ägyptischer Zustimmung gemacht. Jedoch, seitdem im Gazastreifen Hamas 2007 an die Macht gekommen ist, hat Hamas de facto Hoheit über dem Gazastreifen während die PA de jure verwalten sollte. Nach einer etablierten Rollenverteilung ist implizit erwartet, dass die USA Israel zum Gesprächstisch bringen und die EU die Palästinenser. Jedoch verhandelt die EU nicht direkt mit Hamas, weil Hamas von der EU und den USA als terroristische Gruppe eingestuft worden ist, zumal hat Mahmoud Abbas, Präsident Palästinas (Fatah), die EU darum gebeten, nicht mit Hamas zu verhandeln um seine Autorität dadurch nicht zu untergraben. Zudem könnte Verhandlungen zwischen der EU und Hamas auch die EU-Israel Beziehungen gefährden. Aus innenpolitischen Gründen möchte Ägypten Hamas nicht anerkennen, jedoch verhandelt Ägypten doch mit hamaschen Diplomaten, im Gegensatz zu den Vereinigten Staaten und der EU. Der Vorschlag, die Grenzübergänge unter parteiunabhängiger Kontrolle einer technokratischen Agentur zu stellen, könnte hierzu einen Ausweg bieten.
Ägypten besteht weiterhin auf das 2005 Abkommen, wonach die PA und nicht Hamas für die Rafah-Crossing verantwortlich sein soll, verhandelt aber weiterhin direkt mit Hamas—aber nur am Rande der ,,offiziellen“ Verhandlungen mit der PA und Israel. Die Verbindungen zwischen Hamas und Iran werden zunehmend verdächtigt, weshalb Hamas nicht mit zunehmender Unterstützung von anderen arabischen Staaten rechnen kann.

Problemfeld 2: Wie würde das aussehen?
Der ägyptisch-französische Vorschlag für einen Waffenstillstand ist nicht vollständig bekannt geworden. Die bisherige Vorschläge sind: bessere Überwachung durch technische Hilfe, internationale Truppen an der Grenze stationieren, und andere physische Maßnahmen wie einen Graben entlang der Grenze zu gruben (von der Jerusalem Post angegeben, sonst nicht weiter bestätigt).

Technische Hilfe:
Der Vorschlag gehört zu den französischen Ansätzen, eine diplomatische Lösung zu finden, und wurde zusammen mit Ägypten vertreten. Ein internationales Team würde mit Ägyptischen Sicherheitskräften auf der ägyptischen Seite arbeiten, um den Transfer von Waffen und Kämpfer endgültig zum Ende zu bringen. Technische Hilfe (nach israelischen Quellen von den USA entsandt) würden die ägyptischen Kräfte verstärken, neue Tunnel aufzuspuren, Waffenhandel zu kontrollieren und Sicherheit (auch geheimdienstlich) zu erhöhen. Frankreich und die Türkei haben bisher ein Monitoringteam angeboten, um die Grenze besser zu überwachen, und Deutschland und die USA haben Ingeneure und andere technische Hilfe zur Verfügung gestellt, um diese sog. Philadelphi Corridor zu schließen. Fatah sieht für sich auch eine verstärkte Rolle, wonach Fatah Soldaten oder Polizisten, zusammen mit Observation-Teams der EU (die das 2005 Abkommen bzw die Grenze hat überwachen sollen), mit den Ägyptern zusammenarbeiten würden.

Internationale Truppen an der Grenze:
Dieser Vorschlag wurde auch von der PA unterstützt, wonach internationale Truppen an der ägyptischen und gazaschen Grenze stationiert wären (auf ägyptischem Territorium), um Schmuggel zu verhindern. Ägypten hat solch einen Vorschlag aus Souveränitätsprinzipien abgelehnt haben, und internationale Truppen im Hamas-Gebiet zu stationieren würde die Kontrolle Hamas de facto anerkennen. Ägyptische Zustimmung wäre einer Akzeptanz dessen, dass Waffen über Ägypten in das Gazagebiet eingeschmuggelt wurden, gleichzusetzen. Hamas hat bisher auch abgelehnt, auch nur eine internationale Beobachtungskommission an der Grenze stationieren zu lassen.


UND WIE WEITER?

Ägypten hat drei Hauptobjektive: Versöhnung zwischen Hamas und Fatah mit Fatah bevorzugt; Stabilisierung Gazas, um eine Überquellung der Gewalt in die Sinai-Halbinsel zu vermeiden; und die Sicherstellung der Grenze bzw. der Übergängen zwischen dem Gazastreifen und Ägypten zu gewährleisten. Obwohl Ägypten durchaus das Recht hätte, die Grenze komplett oder begrenzt unilateral aufzumachen, kommt es nicht wirklich in Frage, die Grenze zu öffnen—dies würde den Streit zwischen Hamas und Fatah nur verschlechtern, eine mögliche Verlagerung der Probleme auf die Sinai-Halbinsel und auf Ägypten heranleiten, und würde die Grenzsicherung gefährden. Ägypten will die Palästina-Krise nicht auf sich ziehen. Für Ägypten ist auch wichtig, die Rolle als Regionalmacht und Streitschlichter zu behalten, aber dies wird zunehmend in Frage gestellt und hängen eng mit regionalpolitischen Interessen zusammen. Die Grenze verschlossen zu halten bietet die Möglichkeit, eine Diplomatische Lösung und dadurch vielleicht Versöhnung zwischen Hamas und Fatah heranziehen, jedoch gefährde dies Ägyptens Position als Regionalmacht und Streitschlichter und könnte zu regional- oder innenpolitischen Konsequenzen führen. Die seriösen diplomatischen Ansätze beruhen auf drei Hauptpunkte: Waffenstillstand seitens Hamas, Waffenstillstand mit möglichem vollständigem Abzug seitens Israel, und ein verbessertes Grenzregime—jedoch ist noch nicht erläutert, wie dies aussehen könnte. Internationale Truppen wurden bisher von allen Seiten abgelehnt, und die Rolle möglicher technischen Hilfe ist noch unklar Der Vorschlag, die Grenzübergänge unter parteiunabhängiger Kontrolle einer technokratischen Agentur zu stellen könnte eine Antwort auf das Anerkennungsproblem Hamas liefern, jedoch löst nicht die grundlegenden Probleme—aber wenn es einfach wäre, wären es schon längst gelöst. Jetzt steckt nun auch Ägypten in der Falle.

Meshee and no worries

It was the part where he was going for my eyeball with a pointy stick that I started to get worried. “No worries,” he tells me, “just relax,” directing me by the shoulders where to stand, grasping the back of my head and, with the inexpert touch of someone who not only doesn’t do this often but also never does it to himself, he began applying “real Egyptian kohl”. As I understand it, kohl is a very fine kind of charcoal used in ancient times as makeup. As I stood, cramped neck and head tilted awkwardly to the side, he proceeded to blacken my eyesockets and promising me I would come out an “Egyptian queen”. He had started by applying it as eyeliner, and proceeded to use it to black in both of my eyelids. It’s only when the process had already taken twenty minutes with no end in sight did we start making motions to leave and eventually managed to extricate ourselves.

His name was Saïd, and he was the proprietor of the tiny trinket shop in Khan al-Khalili where we were asking for our little Turkish coffee maker, our (until now) unsuccessful mission to make cardamomy coffee goodness at home. His shop was typical of the Khan—rows upon rows upon rows of handmade glass ornaments and goblets, extravagant lamps to be used either with light bulbs or candles which cast the light in intricate patterns, brassworks à la Aladdin’s lamp, fancy teapots, picture frames, inlaid boxes. The usual. Some shops look more like someone’s attic where all the metal is tarnished and random junk sits forgotten in the corner—from strange figurines to old European currency (the first time I’d seen lira, for example). The brassworks shop, the shisha shop, the jewelry shop, and the cloth shops seem to be the most common variants. Saïd had an easy smile, a wheezing laugh, bad teeth, and constantly a cigarette in the hand as he jovially demonstrated how the various glass and brass lamps would look with the aid of a lightbulb on a string. Saïd also had such a coffee maker, and of decent quality (we had, by now, examined half the coffee makers in the entire market, and were aware of the fact that his coffee makers were one-piece and not two-piece, and the handle was solid). He spoke decent English, acceptable French, and bits and pieces of German, and our conversation was a mixture of all four as we admired pictures of his work for hotels and fancy establishments, perched awkwardly on the eclectic collection of stools in the back of the shop, sipped the Arabic coffee he had ordered for us, and chatted about brassworks, glassmaking, his family history, and how it was we came to be in Cairo. We were introduced to the shop cat and “his wife” (the cat’s wife). Unfortunately, petting the kitties in Cairo isn’t a particularly great idea, but oh well; this one didn’t look too scruffy and hopefully didn’t have fleas. Ordering coffee for and sitting with a customer would be unthinkable in many Western countries (at least the bits I’m from), but things obviously work differently here.

I’m not sure if you can call it over-employment or under-employment or unemployment, but it seems most shops are full of approximately six times as many staff members as are necessary. Before we were in Khan al-Khalili we had been to the tailor’s, where my friend was having a suit made and shirts fitted. There’s usually one or two men loitering outside, watching traffic pass and trying to entice customers inside, where another six or eight men were sitting, chatting, and waiting on potential business. The salesman helping you invariably consults with two or three others in most decisions, such that you are subjected to a flurry of activity wherever you go. Many people for little work. Having home improvements done—for example, having water damage remedied—requires a series of different workmen, one to look at the problem, one to remove the wallpaper, one examine the damage, one to sand down the wall beneath, another to apply new wallpaper, and another to clean up. Busy streets turn into mini open-air cafés, as anyone seated nearby will be offered tea by some entrepreneurial individual who comes back later for his dishes. On many street corners you’ll find a guy with an oven on wheels, roasting sweet potatoes or corn, yours for a pound or two. Any doorway becomes almost an ‘official’ café, with shisha pipes, a more reputable-looking refreshment system, and invariably a collection of men playing dominos or backgammon. There’s usually a lot of people not doing a lot of anything, or maybe there’s nothing to do, or maybe they just have it figured out better than those of us constantly pretending to be busy doing something.

A merchant enterprise

“Welcome, welcome!”

Cairo seems to be a place where you only find what you’re looking for once you stop looking—and even better, the treasures you discover by accident and mistake. So was our trip to Islamic Cairo (‘Islamic’ referring to the distinctive architecture and not particularly increased religious conviction), ostensibly north of the massive bazaar Khan al-Khalili, home to some of Cairo’s most beautiful mosques and differing from the rest of Cairo’s architechture, otherwise a mishmash of colonial-era buildings in elaborate style, now fading and increasingly dilapidated, and utilitarian buildings of the Nasser era. Maps are doubtful at the best of times, so we opted to be let out at Midan Atabi and walk from there, wading through the street sellers hawking the same selection of sweaters (yes, Egyptians wear sweaters, ‘cause it’s “winter” here now), scarves, and jeans. Mountains, literally mountains of shoes seemed poised to flood one alleyway, where on another corner various sellers perched atop their table of wares announced prices and items at deafening volume, and the occasional intrepid seller hawked very daring lingerie and bucket-sized bras to the teeming masses.

“Welcome, welcome!” “Welcome to Egypt!” As we press our way through the masses, where any even half-glance at an item extracts the seller’s immediate attention and enthusiastic salesmanship, we are showered with a chorus of “welcome! Welcome to Egypt! Welcome!” It’s almost like being in an echo chamber. Someone must have told the Egyptians that the word for ‘hello’ in English is ‘welcome’, because they seem universally convinced that this will attract my immediate attention.

One of the questions I’ve been mulling over in my head is how to ‘deal’ with locals talking to me. Egypt is notorious for its scams and schemes, and many of them start off with someone engaging you in conversation. The most likely variant is he will try to talk you into his shop, or into his cousin’s shop, where you will be expected (hoped?) to buy something; in other versions, the particular tourist attraction you are looking for is “closed”, but he can show you something else (also possibly involving his brother’s shop, or his local mosque—with an entry fee—or anything else), and a tip is expected at the end. Indeed, ‘baksheesh’ seems to be expected for all manner of services rendered or intended, asked or unasked, everywhere an outstretched hand. Anyways, a philosophical and moral discussion on obligations to ‘spread the wealth’ (the meaning, as I understand it, of the word ‘baksheesh’) is not my intention; my point is that simple non-responsiveness to attempts in conversation is a viable strategy to avoid many of the scams and schemes designed to fleece tourists anyone gullible or convincible. But always being on your guard, always ignoring comments and questions closes off an avenue of contact to new people and experiences, can be a rude response to well-intentioned friendliness, and can be wearying. I am trying to develop a better sense of what is friendliness or curiosity, what is an attempt at salesmanship, and what is a scam. So my response to “welcome to Egypt!” is a smile and a “thank you,” but I continue on my way without answering the inevitable follow-up question of “where you come from?”

We didn’t find Islamic Cairo. What we found was normal Cairo: a district of winding streets, lined by stalls selling wares and food and produce, shops with all manner of items for sale, coffeehouses full of men, shisha, and backgammon, women balancing preposterous bundles on their head. We found districts collectively rivaling Ikea or Home Depot for selection of house fittings, doorknobs, and power tools; we saw woodworking shops, metalluragy shops, tailors and all manner of activities, and the entire area was a gargantuan market—selling the staples of everyday life in Cairo. We saw no other tourists, and frankly, most everything we saw would not interest tourists, unless someone was in desperate need of sawblades or bits of leather whose usage we couldn’t divine. Handcarts full of sewing machines shoved their way through the masses (if you hear a hissing sound, get out of the way—it’s what they use instead of a horn), and every third person seems busy transporting bread—including one kid on a bicycle, balancing a wicker basket of pita breads on his head, upon which were balanced another flat tray with stacked breads. How he got on the bicycle was a mystery to us. Occasionally cars or lorries try to force their way through the narrow and twisty streets, causing blockages where handcarts full of fence posts or clay pots or brassware are trying to go the opposite direction.

Somehow, we ended up at Midan Ramses—the train station square—which is not anywhere near where we started, but it was dominated by the beautiful Al Fath Mosque. It was Friday, the Muslim holy day of the week (think Sunday for ye Christians), so we didn’t know if we could get into the Mosque. I managed to unelegantly cover my hair with my scarf and we were able to enter, after removing our shoes at the door. This is the first mosque I had ever been in, after countless churches and cathedrals across Europe. Instead of a long nave leading to an altar, the mosque was a large open space with vaulted ceilings, roughly square. Because Islam forbids human depictions, the mosque was free of the countless statues and paintings of saints adorning Catholic places of worship, instead adorned with intricate inlaid geometric patterns. It was breathtaking, and as much as I felt I was intruding in someone else’s private sphere, no one seemed to mind or take much notice of us as we stood in the back, craning our necks, and listening to the prayers of some and the quiet snores of others.

We decided to trek up to Khan al-Khalili, the massive souk which preceded Wal-mart by several centuries in selling pretty much everything imaginable, with variations in price in quality (and even in the good old days I imagine much of the interesting stuff was made in China). Though it increasingly caters to tourists, and the sellers in the main part of the market all seem to speak quite good English (thus reducing our advantage of conferring in English and bargaining in Arabic), it has been a commercial centerpiece of Cairo since time immemorial, and is the place to find pretty much anything. If you look hard. The spice markets are good for anything except saffron (easy to fake), entire districts sell just jewelry, or just shisha water pipes, or cloth, or clothing, or cheap trinkets and tacky souveniers, or all manner of beautiful woodwork of varying quality. The shops specializing in trinkets will have brass pyramid models and little sphinxes carved of alabaster, but also antique (looking) brass lamps, aladin-style, Turkish coffee pots, and intricate inlaid woodwork.

“Bikem?”

Bargaining is the name of the game. Nothing has a listed or a fixed price, so it is up to you to know how much you are willing to pay for things. As soon as you evince the slightest interest in anything, the seller will descend upon you. He names a preposterous price for something, you counter with an offer about a third of his, and it goes from there. Once you reach a good price, you pretend to change your mind and walk away. “Wait! Just a MINUTE!” he’ll call after you, if he’s interested in the sale, and you will be able to talk him down a few pounds (or more likely, get something else thrown in the bargain for a slightly increased price). The point isn’t to pay the price you set out to in the beginning, but to come to a conclusion with which both are happy. The happy coincidence of favorable exchange rates means that 10 or 20 LE either way isn’t too much of a hit to the wallet. Bargaining for something does, however, lead to impulse decisions and lightning-fast mental math (ever my strong point, eeek!), trying to counter his offer with your own, assess the value of the purchase, and keep your facial expressions from betraying your thought processes. Still, you likely don’t start bargaining unless you want the thing, and both you and the seller know this, so as long as you started out with a conception of what the thing is worth and are willing to walk away if the thing is outrageously priced, you’ll likely come home with some treasures and, hopefully, the feeling of having gotten a good deal. It gets to the point where we were disappointed if we were in a shop and the salesman didn’t immediately come after us, offering us the deal of a lifetime, and we would never consider taking the item to a salesman in order to bargain for the price.

Walking through the streets evokes a chorus of calls (“welcome!” “welcome!” “welcome to Egypt!” “you need a scarf?”), and even some more creative ones: “you are a lucky man!” “I have a good deal, special deal for the honeymoon!”. We mostly reply with a smile and “laa, shukran” (“no thanks”). My favorite line, however: “hello, hello!” (no response from us) “hello! Hello! how can I take your money?” I guess honesty is the best policy.

Your correspondant reports

I have a confession to make: I don’t speak Arabic. It’s likely not the most profound confession you’ve ever heard, but I really am hopeless. Even if it weren’t an incredibly complex and complicated language, even if it used letters I recognized and sounds I could pronounce, and even if the distance between the Arabic I would have learned in school and what is spoken on the streets of Cairo is as great or greater than the difference between Spanish and Italian, I would still be hopeless because my first exposure to the language was on the car ride from the airport with Ahmed. I can now say ‘thank you’ and ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ and ‘house’. That’s pretty much it. And that’s okay by me, in the sense that I don’t realistically expect to learn fluent Eyptian in the six weeks I’m here, as much as I would dearly love to.

The problem is, I can’t say anything to anyone. A smile goes a long way, and some creative gesticulations will get you most things, but there’s a pretty low limit to what you can accomplish from a communicative standpoint. And as such, it’s unsurprising that I know so little about so many things, and don’t know much about Egypt or Egyptians. I didn’t come here just to see buildings but to see life and to see people and to hopefully meet some. My colleagues at work are hence for me worth their weight in gold. Half of them are Germans who speak some measure (or very good) Arabic and have considerable experience living as a foreigner in Cairo, and the other half are Egyptians who also speak a language I understand and have told me a bit about their lives.

It astounded me to learn, for example, that many of my Egyptian colleagues had a commute of up to two hours each way—four hours a day in traffic. The younger staff live with their families, one practically by the pyramids, and sometimes take multiple busses in order to get to work. Our 8-hour day is their 12-hour day. Apparently (and here I generalize, inducting from the limited sample of my colleagues a conclusion which is probably limited only to Egyptians of similar socioeconomic standing), the concept of a lunch break doesn’t exist, and most of the Egyptians in our office don’t eat lunch or anything at all.

Last night we went shopping for wedding rings. No, I’m not getting married, but someone from my office (a German couple) is, and it’s a better value to buy gold in Egypt. So we took a field trip down to Nasr City and hit up several jewelry shops with my colleague translating between the jewelers and the Germans, and this lovely woman with flawless and lightly-accented German was a godsend. It’s worthwhile going to a reputable jeweler who won’t cheat on the price, and it was a reassuring sign to see several women (perhaps ten) waiting outside his shop for him to return from prayers. (She also helped me acquire a SIM card for my phone for the actual price of LE15 and not LE200, which is what my friends—mistakenly—paid). There I was suggested to stick closer to the single man of the group to avoid being hassled—though to be honest, I think the verbal comments to which I would have been subject would be considered abusive for Egyptians, but since I don’t understand them, they don’t bother me.

Egyptians apparently love malls, or so they tell me. And while they are more expensive, perhaps, than items you would find on the street (I am firmly convinced that everything is for sale in Cairo somewhere, and you find the most random combination of items in the most unlikely places), malls are cleaner and more convenient, and you can go shopping and even try things on as you would anywhere else.

Everywhere I go, it’s clear I don’t fit in. I didn’t expect to, to be honest, and although I am used to being a foreigner, I am used to looking like everyone else, more or less. And here, no matter if your skin color would let you blend in, no matter how well you speak Egyptian, you won’t ever be “from” here. Forget about going native. And I stick out, here, as an obviously Western woman. Most women here wear headscarves most everywhere I go, though quite a few don’t, and it doesn’t seem to be an issue (but what do I know?). I thought about wearing one, along the lines of “when in Rome,” but I don’t want to be making a mockery of anything or pretending to be something I’m not—not that it would bother me, but that it might bother them that I’m pretending I’m Muslim or something. If I were convinced it belonged to common decency I would do it, but there seems to be no expectation for visitors to also wear headscarves.

There’s the crux of it: foreigners and expats are welcomed here, perhaps jovially dismissed and often subject to the “tourist tax” or “white people tax” (which, within limits, is something we can easily afford), but there’s a double standard. In Europe, the foreigners are discriminated against; here, it’s the locals who are discriminated against. The way I hear it, foreigners can act with a certain amount of impunity (particularly anyone here in any kind of official capacity, though to whom normal diplomatic immunity would not extend). I wouldn’t go so far as to say that foreigners can act as they please, but no one seems to expect foreigners to blend in, and most expats continue on in happy indifference or ignorance of “the real life”. Those of us coming from countries with favorable exchange rates can easily afford the spacious and renovated apartments in Zamalek, can have our lunch ordered in every day and go to restaurants every night, and take taxis everywhere (gasp! the environment! gasp!), and spend our evenings sipping cocktails with the youth of the upper crust. Life is good, here, for those of us who can afford it—and that barrier is both startlingly low for Europeans and North Americans, and tragically high for Egyptians. As a lowly starving student I can live a lifestyle here I could never afford elsewhere, but that is just further evidence of the gap between me and most of the rest of the 18 million residents here. I’m not saying I need to go live in the slums in order to have the “real experience”, but it does make me think….

Welcome to Egypt

Ratatatata, ratatata, rat tat tat, rat tat tat, ratatatata, ratatata, rat tat tat, rat tat tat…. There was a military march in Switzerland, no, in Berlin, but what are they doing here? ratatatata, ratatata, rat tat tat, rat tat tat. No, the march is real and I was only dreaming of Europe. I lay utterly still for several seconds, trying desperately to herd my scattered brain cells like recalcitrant cats into something resembling order and make some sense of the situation. I lay on a wide and elevated bed, which would exclude most of the places I’ve slept the last two weeks, under heavy bedding and the sound of yelling accompanying the drums and—xylophones? ratatatata, ratatata, rat tat tat, rat tat tat. I tasted dust in my mouth, and it all came crashing into place. Cairo. Not Germany, not Switzerland, Egypt. My impulse was to run out onto the balcony, from which direction the sounds were coming from, but I decided a Romeo and Juliet style balcony number in my jammies wouldn’t be a great call. Pants were a must, should I cover my hair? I think it was a school assembly, but even that is only speculation.

For some unknown and for me incomprehensible reason, all flights to Cairo seem to get in in the middle of the night, and mine was no exception. 3.30 AM is not a great time to land in a very foreign city, but as it seems to be the norm, it’s not too much trouble to arrange to be picked up. Even on the plane I had the feeling Cairo belonged to another world, if only for the fact that we were confronted with sorry looking chicken and somewhat greasy ravioli at about midnight (our “hot dinner”), with a “cheesecake stick” for desert. Maybe Egypt is one of those countries, like Spain, where dinner is eaten exceptionally late. Most of my fellow passengers were bridging the gap between Egypt and Germany, “sitting on two chairs.” Mixed families with one parent German, one parent Egyptian, were frequent, as were expatriates. Some of the staff of the German school in Alexandria were returning from holidays, as were my seatmates. My “single serving friend” next to me struck up conversation. An Egyptian “from the oasis”, he explained to me in excellent German, he ran a travel and construction business in Cairo, with outposts in Vienna, Berlin, Spain, and elsewhere. He was married to a German woman, seated in front of us, and their two children spoke both perfect German and Arabic, and I suppose he could be considered a Cairean success. He promised me a special guided tour of the pyramids with his next tour group (with a wink and a smile), but it wasn’t the kind of promise I would regard as serious.

Pushed along with the other exiting passengers I was more a bit of flotsam than anything else, and I hoped the tide would eventually get me to where I needed to go. Egypt couldn’t care less who enters (a drastic but not unsurprising contrast to Switzerland), and visas can be had for 15$ or 15€ at any of the bank outposts, where I was also handed a large stack of grimy bills as my 5€ in change, before passport control.

Navigating in Cairo is kind of like trying to follow a spaghetti noodle to its source in a plate with heavy sauce (watch out for the parmesan). Thankfully there was little traffic, and while I would characterize my driver’s lazy drifting from one lane to another, or better still, driving upon the white line in the middle as somewhat erratic, he steered the car with confidence, unfazed by traffic. Cairo is a sprawling mass. I think of it as a creature of itself, pulsing, tentacles (traffic lanes) extending in thick lines in all directions, forming a dense web and weaving above and below one another, elevated above and separated from the city itself, undulating slowly (obviously the streets themselves don’t undulate, seeing as how they’re fixed in concrete). Finding our building was another matter, and involved circling the block several times, several phone calls, and asking directions. Eventually we found it, and I was settled into my new home for the next several weeks. The entry to our building is dulled green marble, testament to the fading and faded glory of the city. Our apartment is ornamented in brickwork, with ornamented tiles forming eight-sided stars on the floor. Heavy antique furniture graces the apartment in the Victorian (ornamented) style, and the walls are painted green and yellow in the living room. Apparently all apartments in Cairo are painted either white or some shade of pink, so my friends were happy to find this piece. Light switches are scattered all over the apartment, ‘up’ means ‘off’, and there are two sizes of outlets, leading to the creative use of power strips. Our fireplace features an air conditioner where the fire would be, and the window above it overlooks Zamalek and one of the prettier (apparently) districts of Cairo.

My first venture in Cairo was by foot, across the bridge from Zamalek to take a boat ride. One of the first things I noticed was how high the curbs are, raising the sidewalks, such as they are, over a foot into the air. Which makes climbing up and down each block noticeably more tiresome, though I was later quite thankful for them, as it ensured extra protection from Cairo’s notoriously chaotic traffic. The promenade along the river presents some of Cairo’s more ‘romantic’ scenery, and it’s not surprising that the promenade is adorned with tons of couples—women in headscarves talking and laughing with young men, seated at impromptu cafés, walking hand in hand or simply side by side. For about seven dollars, we could rent a falucca, a flat-bottomed riverboat with a single sail, common on the Nile, to be had for small trips or even parties, blaring Egyptian pop music or simply silently trolling along. We decided after our trip to head over to old Cairo, which involved crossing the street. Crosswalks and traffic lights don’t exist. Crossing the street isn’t simple: you can wait all day for an opportune time, but your best bet is to wait for the closest lane to become somewhat free, and work your way across the street one lane at a time. If you’re unlucky, you’ll be stuck in the middle of the street and traffic flows around you. Under no circumstances hesitate, and since this is the normal means of crossing the street, drivers are aware of you and will slow down, though may honk angrily. This seems to be the only time when the concept of ‘lanes’ is actually respected; otherwise, they seem mostly to be there for decorations. Most natives don’t seem to run, either, simply moving purposefully to the other side.

Old Cairo is a mixture of a street bazaar, a rundown housing area, and a giant outdoor café: private, public, and commercial lives are intermingled, about every third building is dilapidated and uninhabit(-ed and –able). Some streets contain sheep, others shops, others a workshop where steel or aluminum sheets were hammered into shape. Everything imaginable is on sale, and many shopfronts contain a small table with men drinking tea and smoking sheesha. I took a few pictures, trying to be unobtrusive, but I soon packed up the camera and contented myself with drinking in the sites. These people weren’t objects in a museum, and it somehow felt wrong –or more intrusive– photographing them as if they were part of the scenery. I wished I didn’t stand out as much, just to see what the place would be like without all eyes following me and my red-haired companion. Lunch was a delicious mixture of noodles, macaroni, lentils and chickpeas (served with a tomato sauce), which sated my hunger for the rest of the day and was thankfully vegetarian.

More to come, likely without photos for awhile—I leave it to your imagination and to google images.

Berlin, je t'aime

Berlin, Berlin, Berlin. Eines Tages werde ich in Berlin wohnen, das weiß ich schon, oder nehme mir zumindest vor. Jeder hat eine Stadt, die zu einem spricht, die einen anlockt, die einem etwas darstellt. Ich hab zwar viele von ihnen, viele Städte, die zu mir sprechen, mich anlocken und mir etwas darstellen. Viele Städte, wo ich gerne leben möchte. Ich habe versucht Rechnungen aufzustellen, wie oft ich schon in Berlin war, aber ich weiß es jetzt nicht mehr. Meistens bin ich im Sommer unter den Linden, am Ufer der Spree oder irgendwo in der Bergmannstrasse, selten, wie jetzt, im Winter. Schöne Erinnerungen eines Sommers im Tiergarten, einer Motorbootfahrt auf der Wannsee an den prächtigen Villen vorbei, eines Nachmittags im Café am Sevigny-Platz, eines schwitzenden Besuchs beim Haus am Checkpoint-Charlie stapeln sich im Hinterkopf als ich durch die schneebedeckten und eisigen Straßen stampfte.

Ich bin kein Berliner(in), (stand jedoch unter dem Balkon, von dem Herr Kennedy sprach), behaupte jedoch, die Stadt zu kennen. Natürlich kratze ich nur an die oberste Ebene Berlins. Aber (ziemlich) alles, was gesehen werden muss, habe ich gesehen, von Humboldt-Uni zum Alexanderplatz, Friedrichstrasse hoch und runter, alles Nähe Mitte oder Unter den Linden, Berliner Mauer, Platz der Lüftbrücke und Holocast-Denkmal, unzählige Museen und schöne Ecken, an die ich mich nicht mehr erinnere, Reichstag mitsamt Schlange und Sicherheitskontrolle, leckere Restaurants und das Beste Eis der Welt (Geheimtipp: Sony-Arkaden am Potsdamer Platz. Dort gibt es Brombeer-Mandarinen- und Walnuss-Feigeeis). Und genauso habe ich meine Lieblingsstädte am Liebsten. Nicht mehr, wo ich schon alles gesehen habe, muss ich zu jeder Sehenswürdigkeit pilgern, mich davor fotografieren lassen und wieder in den Bus steigen wie die japanischen Touristen, die sich wie Tausendfüßler in Gruppen von fünfzig durch die Stadt bewegen. Ich muss nirgendwo hin, weil ich schon da war. Ich muss nicht mehr ratlos vor einer Kirche oder einem Museum oder einem Denkmal stehen und mich fragen, wieso ich gerade die, das oder den aufsuchen wollte, ob es mir überhaupt eine Bedeutung hat oder ob ich nur dort hin wollte, weil man es ja eben gesehen haben muss.

Das Smalltalk ist vorbei. Berlin und ich, wir haben uns schon vorgestellt, schon ausgetauscht, woher wir kommen, was wir gerade machen, ob wir etwas gemeinsam haben. Jetzt ist die schöne Zeit des wirklichen Kennenlernens, wo es darum geht, sowohl die schöneren geheimen Ecken zu finden als auch die Macken, die abgefahrenen und heruntergekommenen Seiten auch. Wie mit einem neuen Liebhaber: man ist eben doch noch frisch verliebt, schaut aber, ob er sich wirklich mit dieser neuen Person versteht, um sich hoffentlich noch fester zu verlieben.

Dementsprechend sieht mein Besuch in Berlin immer anders aus. Meistens bin ich auf Besuch, und in einer Woche fahre ich vielleicht ein- oder zweimal ,,in die Stadt“, und ansonsten bleibe ich in Zehlendorf oder Dahlem oder Steglitz oder Schöneberg oder was weiß ich noch bei Freunden, weswegen ich gekommen bin. Manchmal habe ich selber Besuch aus der Heimat, die in 24 oder 4 Stunden alles von Berlin sehen wollen, und dann sind wir wieder auf rascher Touri-Tour, liebevoll und lustig kommentiert von meinen Berliner Freunden. Diesmal war ich alleine, ein Zustand, den ich auf Reisen zunehmend genieße, denn es geht nicht mehr darum, wer wohin will und wann wir uns wieder treffen wollen. Keine Meinungsverschiedenheiten, keine Argumente, kein ,,ist mir egal“, ,,weiß nicht,“ oder ,,entscheide du“ (wofür ich genauso viel Verantwortung trage, denn am Liebsten meinen Gefährten die Entscheidung überlasse). Ich schloss mein Gepäck ab, marschierte aus dem Bahnhof einfach drauflos, ziellos, ahnungslos, ohne Plan und ohne Karte. Ich kann einfach laufen, so lange ich will, abbiegen, wo es mir gefällt oder am interessantesten vorkommt. Essen, wann ich Hunger habe und was ich will. Ich laufe nicht, um irgendwohin zu kommen, denn es gibt nichts, was ich aufsuchen möchte, denn ich kenne alles schon—und die Sachen, die ich nicht schon kenne, sind eher zu entdecken, indem ich einfach weiter gehe und sie in ihrem Versteck aufspüre. Ich will das Leben im Quartier entdecken, ich will die kleinen Geschäfte und Tanta-Emma-Läden sehen, ich will irgendwohin, wo ein Reisebus nicht durchpasst, wo es schön ist und wo es hässlich ist. Es ist manchmal schwer zu glauben, aber es gibt auch Leute die in Berlin leben, und nicht nur Touristen—auch im Winter! Bloß nicht auf eine Karte schauen, nicht nach dem Weg fragen, denn ich habe keinen Weg und weiß ohnehin, in welcher Richtung ich laufe. Wenn ich Glück habe, komme ich irgendwohin, wo ich nicht schon gewesen war. Wenn ich wirklich Glück habe, komme ich irgendwohin, wovon ich nicht mehr zurück will.

Es gibt öfters lustige Leute. In Kreutzberg habe ich zwei Engländer entdeckt, die mit Rasta-Locken und Röhrenhöschen über Esoterik diskutierten, die mir nach Friedrichstrasse folgten und die ich später am Hauptbahnhof vertieft in Diskussion mit einer Currywurst sah. In der Station Potsdamer Platz wurde einen Penner verhaftet (oder vielleicht nur freundlich hinausbegleitet, jedoch war der polizeiliche Einsatz stark genug, dass ich nicht mehr von Freundlichkeit ausgehen konnte), der allerlei Unfug über dem Gebrüll seines bellenden Hundes schrie. Ein junges Paar aus Amerika hat es in die S-Bahn Oranienburgerstrasse kaum geschafft, denn die Türen wollten schließen, und ein Student hat ihnen die Tür offen gehalten. „Thank you!“ rief der Eine, woraufhin der Student ihm freundlich antwortete: „please!“ (und zu seiner Freundin: ,,schau mal, wie gut ich Englisch kann!“). Neben mir am Flughafen deponierte jemand sein Gepäck, und ständig wechselte er sein Rhythmus: er schlief auf dem Gepäck, er wanderte unruhig herum und fingerte seinen Pferdeschwanz—der ohnehin eher wie ein Rattenschwanz aussah—oder er brüllte in sein Handy (auf Griechisch, wie sich später herausstellte; seine Erwiederung auf ,,¿hablas español?“ war ,,Greek, greek!“).

Heute habe ich nichts neues entdeckt, nur das Alte, mit einer schönen Decke Schnee, begleitet von meiner eigenen Freude und den fröhlichen Stampfen meiner Stiefel. Nichts neues entdeckt, mich dafür erneut in die alte Berlin verliebt.

Bis zum nächsten Mal, Berlin.

Au revoir simone

If this blog could talk (independently, at least), it would complain of occasional sniffles, some minor aches and pains, and acute neglect. Posts for December: 2. Depending on the time zone. 2 is a good number for socks, shoes, twins, earplugs, and other things that come in pairs, but in terms of creative productivity, 2 is rather pathetic.

I’m currently trying to write while watching TV. Which shouldn’t be too difficult, as women are well known to be good multi-taskers, and I am a proven master of multiple internet- and chat-windows. However, I am a babe in the woods when it comes to TV. I don’t own one (though, strangely, I do own a DVD player, which sits forlorn and unconnected under my desk), I haven’t actually watched one (in the sense of TV as an activity) in years, with the exception of the 10 minutes it would take me to eat my dinner where I would watch CSPAN or Food network (yes, I am THAT lame). But it makes noise, has pretty flashing lights and a relatively low standard of humor. The problem is, I have approximately the attention span of a hamster, and am good for about 18 seconds per station. I don’t watch TV, I channel surf. Occasionally I stare in fascinated horror at MTV or whatever other aberration of normality which has been exported from my country to the rest of the world.

Not that I often have a point, but if I did, this wouldn’t be it. According to my clock, there are 3 hours and 43 minutes left in 2008. That’s kind of a crazy thought, but then again, today is a day like any other, just like birthdays are. It’s hard not to stand on the threshold of a new year and not look back at the old, for some happy, for others sad, for others indifferent. But that wasn’t the point either. The point, the point, the POINT is (I can imagine Arlo Guthrie at this point, with the glossy photos and the bench W), I finally have the opportunity to leave Europe, trade in my beer and chocolate for mokka and sheesha and unidentifiable bits which I will likely be expected to eat. I have been convinced to purchase a variety of medications which I will hopefully not have to take but likely will, and will have six whole weeks of EGYPT before returning to the freezing temperatures and darkness of Europe. This stint is an internship and some semblance of a vacation, at least in the sense of a holiday from “life” (which seems to change entirely its form and location every few months). No books, no papers. Adventure, chaos, frustration, culture shock, bedbugs, new experiences, new people, work, camels, all of this awaits me, and I it. Wish me luck, don’t mail me anything, and come visit.