Current Currency

First published February 2, 2009

Math very sadly has not ever been a strong suit of mine. While I can calculate and come to some degree of accuracy, it hasn't been without great effort or unusual methods. Compound this with the fact that Cairo uses pounds rather than dollars and the exchange rate is 5.5 (give or take a few thing-ees) and you have real opportunity for some Einstein-worthy formulas.

We can withdraw money from the local ATM around the block. Honestly, it still feels like Monopoly money to me. I'm trying to grasp how much things are, what is a reasonable price and to pay for something without standing there stupified holding a handful of bills for their choosing.

Coins here are very rare. Rather they use a small bill called, "piastres." The pound bill is slightly larger. Before I leave to go anywhere, I organize my wallet putting the smallest bills in front. With the help of John, I have been able to calculate fairly quickly how much things are in US dollars. This helps me know if I'm paying too much or too little for something. Once I learn Arabic I'll be able to really get in there and barter, but for now not getting ripped off is the objective.

I took Emileigh and Aria shoe shopping the other day. Our street is known for its many shoe stores--not a bad thing. We walked up and down the street viewing varieties of shoes practicing our Arabic numbers by looking at the price tags. Aria spotted a pair of brown boots that she liked. She tried them on and decided that she would like to make the purchase. She counted her money and realized she was 9 pounds short. I told her to give me what she had and I would make up the difference. (What a nice Mom!) Anyway, I handed the salesman the money and he shook his head. He told me something in Arabic and acted as if he needed more money. I looked at the bills and told him in English, "It's all there." He shook his head no again and got out a calculator to show me the amount he needed. We went back and forth before he finally held up a 50 bill. He turned it around and in bold letters it said, "piasters."

Very quickly and very sheepishly, I grabbed some bills out of my purse and completed the purchase. It seems that Aria had not paid attention when counting her money and had given me a handful of "change" rather than pounds. We were anxious to get out of the store. We were so anxious that Aria forgot the bag with her new boots in it so they called us back and handed it to her.

She apologized and we laughed promising we would pay closer attention from now on.

The next day I was once again at the grocery store. This time I was ready. I do not want to go to the store every other day so I made a list of things that should last us for at least a week. John was going printer shopping at the same time in the computer mall above the Metro Mart. We both checked our money situation and were in good shape.

We arrived at the store and John went on up the stairs as Aria and I grabbed a shopping cart and began to gather items. I took my time and slowly began filling the cart with a variety of goods. I found some foods I recognized and made my way to the meat counter. During another visit I had asked for the butcher to give me some slices of smoked turkey. It was so good I thought I would get some more. The man asked me how much I wanted. Last time I ordered 1 kilo (I thought) and he gave me 4 slices. This time, I doubled it and asked for 2 kilos of meat. He sliced and sliced and sliced and sliced. Finally, he handed me 2 trays of turkey. I was too embarrassed to make him take it all back so I smiled, said thank you and put it in the cart.

By now the cart was nearing full because Aria had been getting things off the list while I waited for the butcher. I guess it was interesting because people would stop and look in our cart as they walked by. I'm not sure if the items were interesting or the volume. (Did I mention the carts are tiny?)

Aria and I finished up the list and made our way to the checkout. Before we arrived though I wanted to make sure I had my money organized. I knew I had spent more than I expected because of the sliced turkey bonanza. I got my money in order and pushed the cart to the cashier.

She began ringing up the items and I held my money. When out of the corner of my eye, I saw the word "piastres." Oh, no! Flipping quickly through the bills I had counted out thinking it was pounds when actually it was piastres. Yikes! I frantically started fishing through my purse trying to find the pounds that I knew were somewhere in there. I grabbed a wad of them just as she showed me the total: 406 pounds. I had 430 pounds to my name. I breathed a prayer of thanks to the Lord and received the rest of my change from her--more piastres.

John was waiting outside with a printer on his lap. We hailed a taxi and took our goods back to our flat. When the driver stopped I asked John to pay. It seems I was all out of money for the day.

All I Want to Do Is Go to the Grocery Store

First Published January 14, 2009

John's eyes popped open this morning fully convinced he heard our apartment intercom ring. He ran to the button and said, "Hello?" Our security guard responded in broken English, "Hello?" Then John said, "Yes. Hello." Then he said, "Hello." The conversation was going no where when John began to ask him if he had called us for a reason. The security guard asked if John spoke Arabic. John said no. The man spoke no English. They said "hello" about 5 more times and John decided a face to face would be better. 

He went downstairs and began gesturing to our guard in hopes of making some progress. Thankfully a small girl was dressed for school complete with backpack and earmuffs (It's 60 degrees here) and she saw the situation. She promptly listened to John and then translated to the guard. After she conveyed John's initial question, "Did you call me and what did you need?" The guard responded that "No, he did not call John." John came back up to a wife who looked at him and began laughing really hard. However, I was not to get the last laugh.

John needed to wait for our landlady to come to the apartment today to take some floor measurements for new flooring. It seems only 2 days before our arrival, her perfectly prepared apartment was invaded by a neighbor's exploding water pump and now her wood floor was buckling into fragments all throughout our livingroom. So while he waited for her and a friend to show up, he suggested the girls and I take a taxi and go to the internet cafe.

Again, I put on my "Brave Pants" said a prayer and took the girls with me for our first trip out into the big city of Cairo. I got in a taxi and asked the driver to take us to Metro Market. This market is like a small grocery store with all the amenities. In fact more amenities than I need. Afterall, does a store really need to carry 75 types of olives? I hate them all now times 75. Anyway, I digress. 

The Metro Market is right next to the internet cafe. I thought since the Metro Market was better known I would have a better shot at getting there than trying to act out an internet cafe. (M Training did NOT have any charade classes and I think they would be VERY helpful...note to HQ.) So he took us to the Metro Market and dropped us off. I paid him 5 pounds and was very proud to have made the transaction. Once we were out we realized he took us to the wrong one. Apparently there's more than one in our neighborhood.

Since we were there I went in and bought bottled water and more milk. I looked around and decided that it would be futile to keep looking without a proper address. We hailed a taxi with a young driver and began the ride home. I am trying desperately to pay attention to landmarks and such so I can familiarize myself with my neighborhood. (TomTom does not have a chip for this area of the world.) So we drive...and drive...and drive... Looking around I noticed that NOTHING looked familiar. Thinking of every 20/20 special I've ever watched I began a very serious dialog with Jesus. However, he wasn't sinister just miserably lost. He must have asked 10 people how to get us to our street.

He muttered, honked, wrote things down, flipped his cassette tape of Arab pop music over and drove some more. Finally we recognized our street and motioned for him to stop. I handed him a 5 pound note and he told me that he needed 2 of them. I said, "No" with a very serious look on my face. He made motions that he had to drive so far he needed 10 pounds. I told him that it wasn't my fault he was lost. So it was a stare off for neither of us could speak the other's language. I then handed him 20 pounds and waited for 15 back. He gave me 10. I motioned I wanted one more 5 back. He shook his head and said, "No." Now I'm really mad because he has my money and he has the audacity to borrow my pen all at the same time.

I asked for my pen back and waited for my money. No more came. The girls had already bailed out and were watching from the sidewalk to see how this would play out. Score one for Ahmed; zero for Pam. He did hand me a piece of paper with our apartment address written in Arabic. He pointed and said, "Good address!" I guess the extra 5 pounds was for a piece of paper that I could now give all taxi drivers so that they wouldn't suffer as he did. I was still fuming.

Once upstairs, John commented on the brevity of our trip. I relayed the events to him and he gave a sympathetic smile and then began laughing. Touche'.

Just wait until I learn some Arabic, Ahmed. Just you wait...