I really like this town. I really do. But people keep on not believing it I don't know why. This town, we call it sin city. Nothing sinful in this town, it's just a name. It has the feel of me. The dusty air, the soundpollution, the screaming man talking on the phone, the so called badass taxi driver, and all the good people who dwells in it. I do love it.
This morning I was walking by in tahrir, one of the biggest squares in town. Nothing special, my earphone's on, music's playing, the cool air breezes, people passed by me, and poor policeman wrestling in the street with a million cars as the foes. I saw people with their own lives, busy doing their best to keep up. Me? I think I did well also.
It got me thinking. In this wonderful scene there was always something missing. Like a good movie with a bad acting. Like a beggar without a hole in his shoes. Like me walking without a destination.
I took a taxi to dokki area, my fave place. The taxi driver charged me with a double price just because im a foreigner. And yes we fought. Hahaha.
A man called me himar which is translated as donkey and he laughed with his friends as they passed by me. The funny thing is we don't know each other. It's just another moment where two strangers meet. And he chooses a word of animal's name instead of hello. Well I don't mind. Usually. But after a crappy moment with a taxi driver, the last thing I need is a man mocking me in the street.
Another man, decided im a Chinese and started to talk in languages I don't understand. I wished he was talking Arabic, which I don't have problems dealing with. I can't argue and I wont. Annoyed, yet I must endure.
It got me thinking, again. Where did all the good people go?
I had an interview with a tv station today. The interviewer didn't tell me the station's name, but from all the question I had this is the most intriguing: "did people treat u the same in this country? How do u find this beautiful country suits you?"
I was speechless. Why did he ask this question? Is it a hidden fact that people treat a foreigner as an alien? Or is it just me? I can't say people treat me differently. Because I know they do, even if they tell me they don't. That only proves I am right.
I smiled and said, "it's been a pleasant place for me, people are so kind and don't treat me differently." It's not a lie. At least some part of it.
Leaving on that 12.30 night train; I didn't know how far I'll go. It's the last train. Sitting alone in the train will always give you the moment of thinking while looking at the face of the people near by. Their expression shows the day they have been through. I saw one man with a wheelchair; his face shows that he had a hard life before and ahead. A fat lady with a thick makeup told me that she doesnt like to be judged. Well I don't judge. I saw my own expression in the door reflection. Is it really the same me that people see with the one in front of me now?
And now I'm sitting on my bed, writing. I don't have better things to do. Well I always don't have one. It's an excuse if I said I was busy. The truth is I am lonely and useless. I am no better than a beggar. I don't have a job, money, house, and people to care of. But people don't care, do they? They pretend. And so will I….
Its been a pleasant night, sin city. Lets have a chat another time, for this time I am weary and resentful.
Good night.
