Bye

I left Egypt more than two weeks ago. I first went to London for a short while, and now I'm back in Norway. My Year Abroad is over. I wanted to write one last blog post still, I guess to sum up the past year and comment upon what I have learnt. Now that I'm sat down to write it, however, I don't even know where to start. But I'll try. So here goes:

Since September I've lived eight months in Alexandria, admired the Ottoman architecture of the small Delta-town Rosetta, learnt my way around what is probably Africa's biggest city - Cairo -, enjoyed the pleasant agricultural scenery around the lakes of Al-Fayoum, marvelled at the blueness of the water by the Mediterranean city of Marsa Matrouh, snorkelled some amazing reefs in the Red Sea by Hurghada, roamed the sand dunes in the desert around the oasis town Siwa, been astonished by the ancient temples and tombs of Luxor, chilled out in the backpacker beach town of Dahab, seen the true beauty of the Nile in Aswan, camped out in the moonscape of the White Desert and climbed a few hills in the Black Desert, explored some of the world's oldest monasteries - the monasteries of St. Anthony and St. Paul-, strolled around the Sufi stronghold of Tanta and tried to get a tan on the beaches of Sharm el-Sheikh.

I've tried every trick in the book to get hold of some small change, dodged the deadly traffic which is governed only by the principle of survival of the fittest, argued with countless taxi drivers who were trying to rip me off and hit on me simultaneously, and also heard of some amazing taxi drivers, like the one who insisted on my friends coming back to get their change as he thought they'd paid him too much. I've been drinking lovely fresh juice from the juice bars lining the streets, lounging in cafés till the early hours, never quite getting the taste for sheesha but warming to hot cider (the non-alcoholic kind, obviously). I've gotten used to security checks when entering a mall and to hearing the call to prayer sounding through the supermarket, and of course through the city as a whole. I've developed a soft spot for Sponge Bob, especially as an adornment on hijabs worn by middle-aged ladies or on t-shirts proudly worn by foxy young girls dressed to a tee. I've witnessed the most beautiful prayer in the desolateness of the desert, and I've seen a red moon rise. I've floated around in the middle of the sea which was as calm as a pool, and I've seen dolphins twice. I've gone from hardly speaking a word of Egyptian Arabic and viewing it as a slightly ugly dialect to being able to get what I want across in most situations, and realising when listening to some friends discussing football just how vivacious and funny this dialect is. I've asked for a plate instead of a top-up ("shahn" is so easily confused with "sahn") and had my Arabic laughed at so many times, but even more often people have applauded my Arabic before I've even finished a sentence, and most importantly I've happened across some people who have listened to me with endless patience and encouragement even when I got stuck and didn't quite know how to express myself. I've faced prejudice for the first time in my life and had comments directed at me pretty much every time I left the house. I've taken the train from Misr Station in Alexandria time and time again, a station which contains a hundred clocks, none of which show the right time. I've had my friend's niqabi wearing mum, who could have had all reason to eye me with scepticism, embrace me warmly the first time we met while trying to pronounce my name in the Norwegian way, and I've received scores of cute drawings of me from another friend's adorable little nieces. I've had friends and strangers opening up their homes to me, which is the most humbling experience. I've had many of my own sterotypes shattered and prejudices contradicted, which I am ever grateful for. I've celebrated the Norwegian National Day the 17th of May without a single Norwegian flag, but with tons of good friends to make up for it. I've seen the biggest church in the Middle East which is situated in the area of the garbage collectors, and I've met the Patriarch of Alexandria. I've attempted a few sand angels to no avail, rolled down a sand dune and had to empty my suitcase of sand before going on beach holiday. I've started assuming that if I feel drops of water landing on my head while outside, it's due to air conditioning and not rain. I've chatted with old people in a nursing home and been to the wedding of some orphans. I've been to the wedding of a friend. I've met up with the people from my class to laugh about the day's calamities, and started mixing Arabic phrases into my English. I've said "alhamdulillah" ("praise be to God") more times than I can count, and used "insha'allah" ("God willing") to get out of tricky situations. I've listened to endless discussions about politics, from which the main conclusion I could draw was that Egyptian politics is profoundly confusing. I've heard stories of the revolution and seen the graffiti around Tahrir Square which bears testimony to the hard struggle the people has been through, but I have also come to understand that the real revolution is probably far from over. I've heard people express all sorts of sentiment about the revolution, and sensed that what many people long most for now is some stability and predictability, but that they differ in the view of whether they want this even at the expense of freedom or not. I've learnt to always answer that I am now focusing on my studies and waiting until I have completed them when asked about whether I'm married or not, as I have found that this is the answer that is most easily accepted. I've danced on the Nile and on the school bus, and sung folk songs in the desert. I've avoided getting hit by the young guys cruising around on their motorcycles blasting loud music. I've spent many an hour on night buses and trains, and given directions to Cairenes in Cairo, which was a major victory as I'm generally known as a person with no sense of direction whatsoever. I've gotten used to the door bells which look like light switches and sound like birds, and been frustrated by the fact that our bills could only be paid in person, and that the people who collected the money for them always came in the middle of the day, when we were at school. I've gotten tans and lost them again. I've learnt how to put on a hijab and have passed as Turkish on a few occasions. I've been asked where I'm from one million times, and stubbornly replied "Alexandria" even though I knew that answer would not be accepted. I've breathed a sigh of relief every time I've come to the sea front of Alexandria from my flat inland, and I've been sat under the palm trees sipping on a cold drink, watching the sea and feeling as though I'm on holiday only meters away from the busy main road. I've taken off my jacket in the middle of the night because it was too hot. I've learnt my way around Alexandria, and the rest of Egypt to some degree, learnt more about how things work and how to deal with different situations, especially when things don't quite go as planned, progressively enjoying myself more. And I've made friends for life.

When the first vague idea of this blog post formed in my head, I think I was hoping to share some great insight with all of you. However, upon thinking more about it, I realise that I haven't gained any such great insight: I'm certainly no expert on the Arab world or Egypt or Egyptians or even Alexandria. I think I have rather gained many little insights, and this might not seem as impressive and they are certainly not very easy to express, as I can't even pinpoint exactly what they are. This random and anecdotal post probably doesn't even sum up the most important lessons and experiences from my time in Egypt, but hopefully it will give you a broad picture at least. Before leaving Alexandria, many of my friends talked about how they thought they had changed, but that they would only know to what extent upon their return home. I thought to myself that I hadn't changed much, but to my surprise I felt very different when returning to Europe. There is no drastic change, nothing tangible, but I guess it is the sum of all those little insights, which have not changed my outlook on life or anything as dramatic as that, but which will probably come in handy from time to time, making me perceive certain situations differently. So if you really want to see what I have learnt from my Year Abroad, I guess you need to spend time with me and brace yourself for a good many stories starting with "When I was in Egypt..." for the years to come.

...

At first coming back to England was a huge shock. I sat on the tube thinking that people dressed so weirdly - not only because of how much skin they were showing, but also with regards to the different styles of clothing, and I looked with astonishment at hipster kids and hip hop chicks. Seeing alcohol everywhere also shocked me, even more than it did when I first came from Norway, which has a much stricter alcohol policy. When I first moved to London from Norway I found it to be a big, chaotic city, but after Egypt I could appreciate just how organised and clean and silent it was. I also rediscovered the quirkiness of this city - where else would you stumble upon a bike repair shop combined with a café combined with an estate agent? I guess one of the good things about going away from a place is that you realise all the good things about it.

Coming back to Norway felt more natural, somehow, maybe because I had been to England first, or because I have grown used to coming back here after being abroad these past few years. It does, of course, seem incredibly calm and silent. One of the greatest things about where I live is that it is so close to the city centre of Oslo - half an hour on the underground and I can meet my friends to go see some strange French movie or hang out by the marina eating soft serve -, but it is also right by a forest with many lakes and rivers. You can thus easily switch from city life to nature. Taking my dog for a walk in the forest, the only sound being the wind ruffling the leaves of the trees, my eyes feasting upon the greenness of everything, asking myself as I always do how it is possible that there are so many shades of green, I must admit that Egypt seems a world away. However, it is all with me, and I think of events and episodes from the past year many, many times each day, normally with fondness. I am so glad I went.

This will be my last blog post, as there is no longer any Ajer in Alex, to my knowledge at least. Thanks for stopping by and maybe even following this blog, I hope you've enjoyed reading.

Year Abroad: Successful.