Chris here...

Alright. So it’s my turn to blog. Unfortunately I was not blessed with the creativity of some of my colleagues, so I’m just going to tell you, dear reader, a little story that many are familiar with but that I think reveals some helpful information regarding life in our lovely city of Alexandria. So, here we go.

The other day, maybe a couple of weeks ago, we’re sitting in the ‘dar’—our conference/study/sleep/computer room on campus—and a female colleague mentions that she isn’t feeling well. Being the chivalrous lad that I am, I head out onto the streets of Alexandria in search of Excedrin. Now, we’ve been here for several months, so trips to the pharmacy are pretty normal by now; today, however, was not because, well, sometimes I’m stupid.

Here we go, getting some Excedrin. I’m on the street, check the wallet, of course, no money. Lesson One: carry cash. Very few places in the city will accept credit/debit cards, and even those that do are unreliable. “No worries,” I think, I’ll just use the ATM that is conveniently located at the door to the School of Business—I’ll be back at the dar with plenty of time to spare before my next class.

I walk the short distance to the gate only to find the ATM is out of order. Ok, I know for a fact that across the street, in front of the gorgeous library of Alexandria, there are a couple of ATM’s. So I head that way, dodging taxis and Germans with fanny-packs (God bless ‘em). Naturally one is out of order and the other will not recognize my card. Lesson Two: if you find an ATM that works, use it and remember its location.

I decide to walk to a bank that I know has a working ATM. After a short walk, I arrive and notice a gentleman in a suit smoking a cigarette who waits until after I’ve made a fool of myself trying to open a locked door to inform me that the bank is in fact “clues-ed.” I ask him in Arabic which I’m sure makes his English sound like the Queen’s Own when the bank will be opened again because I need to use the ATM. Thankfully he is a bank employee so he understands the term ATM (do you know how stupid you sound when you try to explain this particular banking innovation in a foreign language???) and informs me it will be some time(lesson 2.5: banks/post offices/anything that you might think should hold convenient hours often close in the middle of the day). Does he know where another ATM might be? Of course he does. And its not far either—only 5 blocks down, on the left.

Gather round kids, here comes Lesson Three: after receiving directions, confirm, confirm, confirm. Ask as many people as you want, that won’t be a problem. It seems that, aside from soccer, there is no Egyptian past time more favored than direction-giving. People love to help here. I’ve seen arguments over who has earned the right to be the direction-giver. It is extremely helpful…if they actually know what they’re talking about. I’m not sure where this desire comes from, but rather than saying they simply don’t know, some people will just guess… Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I myself am not entirely innocent of this crime. Anyway, 30 mins and I don’t know how many blocks later I am still without cash or medicine.

I end up walking to an area known as Sporting, and along the way I get a lot of stares. Now, as a foreigner, you’re going to stick out—whether it’s your clothes, the way you cross the street, whatever, you’re different. There are some in the program who are constantly confused with Egyptians. I am not one of them (Think Jim Gaffigan, more hair, just as pale). For the melanin-challenged out there, take heart, you’ll get used to it.

Finally I found an ATM, and I’m off to the nearest pharmacy. I walk in and ask the nice young lady for something for a headache “you know, Excedrin, acetaminophen, whatever.” Blank stare. Not unusual, people don’t expect a white (seriously, really white) guy to speak Arabic (or what somewhat resembles it), so I get this a lot. I repeat…so does she. Then she slowly lifts her hand and points to an older gentleman sitting behind the counter. I walk over and I’ve barely begun repeating my request when he reaches into a drawer, tosses me some pills and says “15 pounds.” Now this is way too much to pay, but I’ve had a long afternoon and, for whatever reason, this guy does not seem like he wants me in his store, much less like he’s in the mood to haggle. So I leave with a cheery goodbye and I’m on my way.

A few blocks down I can’t shake the feeling that something was weird about that encounter. He seemed to not understand my speech at all, but somehow knew what I wanted—things are rarely ever that easy here… So I check the medicine packet… I don’t recognize the generic name, no surprise there. Then I notice some fine print on the packaging, reading “do not use without advice of psychiatrist…” ok that’s weird for Advil ….”or Urologist”…what the… I should buy something else.

Lesson Four: if a situation feels weird, whether its getting into a particular taxi, a bill that doesn’t seem to add up, or someone asking for your number, it probably is. Go with your instincts, and you should be fine. That’s what I did. I followed my instincts to the internet and looked up this mystery drug that a grumpy pharmacist was sure I needed.

Lesson Five: apparently, Viagra is really easy to buy in Egypt.