A Day Is as a Thousand Years

First published January 17, 2009

We spent our second Friday in Cairo waiting on the workmen who were going to come and continue working on our living room floor. We all got ourselves ready so that when they arrived we would be able to scoot out the door right away. Around 10 am we were getting a bit hungry so we thought we would eat half a peanut butter sandwich to tide us over until we could go to our regular haunt of McDonald's while we checked our email. At 11 we began pacing the room and trying to think of things to do. At noon, we began to practice our Arabic numbers and look out the window. By 12:30 pm we started watching, "Prince Caspian" in hopes that it would make the time pass quicker. We could hear parts of it, but the local mullah (M*slim pastor) was reading his sermon over the loudspeaker and the competition was fierce. 

2:30 the phone rang and our landlady, Amanda (pronounced Amahn-duh), called and said that she would pick us up at 3 for lunch. Lunch? We haven't even eaten breakfast yet and still no workmen. Amanda came right on time and we met her outside since parking is absolutely impossible anywhere in Cairo. We hopped in her car and were taken to a stylish restaurant in an area close to our flat. It was called, "Spectra." Inside it looked just like a Ruby Tuesday. Her husband, Ali, had a table ready for us and we were all seated as all the locals stared at us to determine if we were anyone they had read about in the tabloids.

Ali and Amanda's daughter, Aylia, arrived and we began to look through the menu. Each selection looked delicious so we asked for a recommendation. Amanda ordered for us and insisted that we eat our own dinner and not share. (We had read earlier in our "Home Remedy" book things to do when one has...well...intestinal issues. It said to eat lightly and let your internal organs rest.) That was the plan but it was not to be. Amanda felt so badly that our flat wasn't ready that she was going to nourish our damaged psyches with food and lots of it.

Our plates were brimming with veal, pasta and fresh veggies. My Diet Pepsi had ice (hurray!) and John tried a mint lemonade at their prodding. We ate and visited and ate and visited. The whole time I'm thinking, "Don't say anything stupid." "Be gracious." "Say thank you." "Ask questions, but not too invasive." I think we navigated through the international waters safely. John didn't give me any, "Luuuuuuuuccccyyyyy!" looks so that's good.

It has been around an hour and a half since the meal began and my current medical condition began to signal that perhaps it was time to slow down and give my organs the rest that they so badly deserved. I pushed my plate forward and bit and began sipping my Diet Pepsi slowly.

The waiter came and took our plates and put the food in boxes for later dining. I was fine with that. We were just about to thank our hosts when a dessert menu was thrust in our hands. I smiled and as kindly as I could told her that I was very full and satisfied.

She smiled and asked if I wanted the Oreo Madness or strawberry cheesecake. I said that all 3 of us girls would share one dessert. She said it was big and sharing was okay. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then she asked if I would like ice cream or cheesecake. "Oh, no. We will all share the Oreo dessert."

She tsked and said that I would like the cheesecake. So she ordered that, too. She looked and John and he held his ground. He very kindly told her that his lemonade drink would be dessert enough. She smiled again and ordered him another one.

Our desserts arrived but to the chagrine of our hosts the ice cream in the Oreo madness was the wrong flavor. The owner was embarrassed so he insisted that we take those as well with his compliments. Now instead of two desserts we have 4.

We are approaching the 2 hour mark and my digestive track has planned a full revolt. I keep talking to Jesus and asking Him to please not let this turn into an "incident" from which I would have to try and correct for the rest of the year.

Coffee and tea were offered, but we politely refused and they seemed satisfied with that. They asked if we would like to go and we all nodded a big, "yes." Ali and Aylia said goodbye and Amanda led us to her car. She began the drive back to her flat when she offered to go a different route to show us some of the features of our neighborhood. I had small tears forming in the corners of my eyes, but I kept quoting Phil. 4:13.

Finally our tour ended and we finished our time together by paying her the 6 months rent in advance. Most of the time you pay a year in advance, but she said 6 months was good enough. We hugged and waved and then I practically ran to the elevator to get to our flat.

We arrived at our door and attempted to unlock it. Slowly the realization dawned on us that the key that controls the deadbolt from the inside of the apartment must still be in the lock thus preventing us from entering from the outside.

I took one look at John and said, "One of the girls will go with me. One will stay with you. I'm heading to McDonald's." Emileigh and I bolted for the restaurant. Upon arrival, Em ran for the restroom while I ordered some form of food in order to stay at their establishment. Food was the LAST thing I wanted but it was necessary.

By the time I ordered, she was out and I ran in. We hung around for about 30 minutes and then decided to go back to the flat to check on the door situation. We found John, Aria, our security guard and a locksmith all gathered around the doorknob. The locksmith had a sledge hammer and was banging very loudly trying to break the lock. We wanted to meet our neighbors, but there had to be a better way.

After several hammers, looks of disapproval and flying parts, we were in. The security guard smiled at us and allowed the women folk to go on in while the men finished up. Before you know it, we had a new lock and 4 keys. The grand figure for this home visit, on a weekend, in the evening? 10 bucks.

When we walked into the apartment we noticed that the workmen never did show up. They actually meant Saturday. It was assumed that they wouldn't come on Friday. Assumed by everyone except us who sat and waited pitifully. Patience is a good trait to learn in Africa. We are getting good at it as long as our digestive tracts agree.