Guess Whos back

So I am back in Cairo. Armed with a much better knowledge of Arabic, the culture and the city, I though that everything would be so simple this time around. However less than then a minute after stepping through security I got a nice reminder about the Egyptian hustler.
The first thing to do was to make it from the airport to my hotel. Since I was dragging two rather large bags behind me, this requires a taxi. There are only about ten cabs in Cairo that have a working fare meter. This means that either the average tourist is going to get scalped every time they ride in a black and white car or the fare must be negotiated ahead of time. I find that this means considerably fewer problems than taking the ride with the driver expecting several multiples higher than he is going to get paid.
The first guys I talk to volunteers my price: 50 Egyptian pounds. Quite pleased with the expediency of this, I grab my bags and walk to the taxi where I hear the guy tell the driver 50 American Dollars, which is about 225 EP. Far too much but commonly known as the "Tourist Rate" (No joke, the locals really call it that). So I politely tell him in English that that was too much and I would pay 50 pounds. To which he responded that $50 was the normal rate (it isn't), that 50 pounds is what the gas costs (closer to 10 cents if the car gets bad mileage), and that he had three daughters to feed (a twenty year old guy who hustles tourists is unlikely to be married let alone have three kids). I decide that finding a new person to deal with is best, so I thank him and start to walk away. So he spits 70 pounds to my back with disappointment. Then the negotiation begins. We don't agree. Me, not being ignorant, and he, being greedy, could not come to terms with the flaws we saw in the other. So after about ten minutes of looking I find a driver who will make the trip for 60 pounds. Decent enough.
So the next day I put on my nice new suit and head to the main Citibank office where I am supposed to be working. Long story short, I end up waiting in the lobby for the better part of the day and the next day and the next. I finally get an email from my sponsor on Friday, five days after I thought I was starting work, that the head of the Finance department would call me on Sunday to work things out.
Having a week off gave me considerable free time. After doing a few searches for apartments to get a feel for price/location/size on my first three evenings in Cairo I decide that I am going to spend entirety of the next day looking for a flat.
Starting at 9:30 in the morning, I meet with broker Number 1. He tells me that a lot of rich Arabs come to visit Egypt in the summer and rent flats like hotels so finding something my size and price would be hard. He shows me a few bad flats and I end up not taking them. This gets me to lunch at One after which I meet with broker Number 2. He tells me the exact same thing and shows me two of the same apartments, but with the price increased by about 200 pounds a month. I decide at five o'clock more... ethno-centric approach is needed.
Each apartment building in Cairo has a Bowab, or doorman. He is responsible for making sure nothing bad happens to the building and runs small errands for the tenants. The Bowabs run the city. I decide that talking to a Bowab and seeing if they have any flats open would be a good idea. One of the big problems with this idea is that Bowabs do not speak English. Most of the communications between us are short, barely understood by either party and where horrificly time consuming. But I was seeing flats new so I roll with it. This leads me on a wild goose chase across greater Zamalek which results in seeing apartments what haven't been cleaned since he last Pharaonic Dynasty. After seeing the third overpriced flat with 4000 years of dust I decide that I'm giving up. However I get convinced to look at one last apartment.
It was fantastic. Exactly what I was looking for and a little below my price cap. Not a great view but had everything else. In attempting to get down to business the ring leader of the Bowabs enlists the help of the neighbor who spoke English decently well. So after a few brief sales pitches I finally ask what price he wants. The neighbor translates this to the Bowab who replies and the neighbor says "5000 pounds a month." He then turns to the Bowab in a rather annoyed tone and starts saying in Arabic "5000 a month?!? That's what I am paying for the flat across the hall and I only have one bedroom." So after they finish arguing the neighbor turns to me and says "He wants 8000 pounds." I refuse which seemed to create an argument between the Bowab and the neighbor. Then the neighbor told me that the flat wasn't available anymore because he was moving in, heres the fun part, for 5,500 pounds a month. I left.
I walk from northern Zamalek to mid-island to get a later dinner at a more reputable stand. As I was leaving the shwarma joint a guy randomly sitting on a stoop asks me if I found a place. I reply and get dragged to a building that looks pretty sketchy. Though it turns out to house the nicest flat I had seen so far. Exceptionally clean, spacious and a great balcony with a view of the Nile. The best place I had seen and in the best area as well.
As it turns out the Bowabs from earlier were freelancing as brokers who wanted 500 pounds from the owner for services rendered and 800 pounds from me. I was prepared to pay a marginal fee but not the 800 pounds that the guy wanted in addition to what the owner paid. After more negotiation, I agreed to pay 200 and the owner paid 300.
So here is Cairo and that little speck is me, just one in the 18 million. With a population density more than double that of Tokyo and a metro area half the size of Hong Kong, its easy to be overwhelmed. Lucky for me, I have my own little sanctuary on the 5th floor of a building on Hassan Asem Street.