Looking At London With Egypt’s Eyes

Fresh off the plane from Cairo, Lucy Woods has double visions of Egypt in East London.

After four months studying abroad in Egypt, I went to see my friends. Dressed in a much-missed short denim skirt, a full-length coat, gloves and a scarf, my breath strangely freezing in front of my face, I set out for the pub.

The pub which does not separate the drinking and the non-drinking, on a tube which does not separate genders. Back in England for less than 24 hours, I was still trying to get my head round the bitterly cold wind, my own uninhibited clothing and everyone else speaking English. It all made for some kind of reverse culture shock.

I had got used to my (Egyptian) friends advising me where to go, what to avoid, what to say in Arabic – except, I’m home now, no one tells me what to do here. I know where I’m going, I think.

But on the tube I overhear ‘mish arif, y’ani…ukchtee’ and I realise there’s a guy over there talking about his sister in Arabic. Walking from the tube to my flat in East Ham I pass restaurants and sound out the Arabic letters before reading the English title to reiterate the name correctly. I shudder when someone suggests going to an (expensive) shisha bar here in London – it’s never more than 50p (5 Egyptian pounds) for a whole night of puffing luxurious clouds of tasty tobacco in the vast array of cafes in downtown Cairo. In the ‘urban jungle’ of London I find numerous and continuous references to the distant Middle Eastern land I have just left.

It’s weird to think the challenging experience that has shaped so much of my thoughts, opinions and perceptions of the world is slipping from my mind; receding, creeping away as inevitably as the tide. I learnt so much academically, culturally and personally. For the first month I revelled in telling tales and looking at old pictures, reading Arabic and messaging my Egyptian friends to remind me: this did happen to me.

But the deeper attitude which this has fostered in me, does not have to be such a fleeting experience. My best friend – we always send long emails and both of us travel often – advised me to apply the lessons I learned in Egypt so that they become a long term lifestyle. His wise words have reminded me that transitory experience and elusive memory are not what it’s all about. What matters most is the material – the warp and weave of lives lived differently – that you bring with you. This in turn means being open minded and trying new things; challenging myself and being non-judgmental and curious about everything. It turns out that I do not need to be in Egypt to question everything.

This is also why, whenever someone asks me about travelling, studying or interning abroad, I always say: go. Go now, right now, because it’s not about a holiday or even a fun or challenging experience – it’s about changing your whole outlook on life and growing as a person. The same way I never realised I can apply my Arabic skills in London till I learnt Arabic, I never realised the same inquisitive outlook can be applied to life at home; not just when you’re abroad.

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