A place to rest my head, at least until woken up by horns and children

So, after all that great apartment hunting and dealing with shady flat-finders, turns out the most ideal apartment was found by one of the guys working at my hostel! Apparently my near-constant nudity and obnoxiousness has not gone unnoticed or unappreciated...out of all the people in Cairo, these guys probably had the most motivation to help me find a place of my own. The guy at my hostel used to work at another hostel near the apartment, was chatting with the doorman at his hostel, who in turn knew the doorman at my apartment.....networking works, yeah? So, after some shenanigans (that I'll write about later) with the landlord, I've finally moved into my very own Cairo pad. Now that I've finally sat down to write about it, I realize that the majority of my pictures are on my camera, which is not at all on my person right now. Awesome. Here are the few I have so far on my computer though:

The entryway to my little slice of Cairene heaven: nice, marble, stone, and unpolished enough that I don't have to worry about slipping on the steps while wearing my work shoes and cracking my head open on the stairs. If the lighting weren't so institutional and fluorescent, it'd feel pretty classy, as it's kept relatively clean, and is quite open. Plus, some of the marble floor tiles are a bit cracked and loose, so they wiggle and rattle a bit when stepped on. Every time I walk on one, I have mini-daydreams about prying it up and hiding something cool under the stone slab, to be found by no one, ever. High on the list of stupid-things-to-hide-under-an-unmoveable-stone-slab are my only apartment key and passport.

The view from the mini-balcony, accessible by both bedrooms, is pretty spectacular. Right across the street is what I believe is called Qasr (mansion) Champollion, possibly where the famous French archaeologist/Rosetta stone translator guy lived, or had dealings? I need to research this more later. But there's a fantastic abandoned classical-European-architecture mansion right next to my apartment building, and I fully intend on "accessing" it at some point, even if I have to get my hands on a grappling hook (or bribe the guards). Down the street a bit to the right, there is an all-girl's school that has classes starting at right around shut-the-hell-up-o'clock in the morning. I hear a steady stream of chatting and giggling every morning that's enough to wake me up, but not only to the half-awake/asleep state where sounds merge with dreams. In fuzzy-mode, their voices really do sound like a babbling brook or flowing/bubbling water, which makes for an interesting mindset to start the day. Like I'm drowning in children.


My bedroom! Notice the random assortment of phone-with-no-cord, homeless mirror, disassembled vacuum cleaner, and oddly placed stool. All accoutrements around the nest of love at the core of Cairiasian central, complete with leopard-spotted blanket that came with the flat! Now even while unconscious, I can be P-I-M-P. After putting on my suit in the morning, I feel incomplete walking out of this room without a cane and a big hat. Note to self: go shopping.