From the Cairo International Airport in Egypt, we join the shifting, frenzied yet symphonic, traffic already occupying Oruba Road.
Carpeted in abundant, green grass, an island separates us from the traffic, equally as spirited, moving in the opposite direction. Various shades of ground covers hug the cement curb, while palm trees stretch to the sky. Smaller trees and shrubs, an ornate iron fence and at one point, a statue of Ramses II, complete the vibrant ensemble.
It’s an unexpected scenic drive.
“This road is very nice,” our guide explains. “Because this is the road the president takes to and from the airport.”
Around us, the vehicles all seem to be riding atop each other, yet traffic is seamlessly fluid. Drivers engage in an incessant, generous use of horns. But the result is anything but angry, as I would expect. Instead, drivers seem to be communicating gentle warnings of their presence: approaching on the left, passing on the right.
On the blacktop, broken white lines indicate six lanes.
“The lines are just a suggestion,” our guide quips, smiling. “Decoration.”
Further hinting at the acceptance of relaxed traffic rules, our guide states the obvious: we will see multiple forms of transportation sharing the road. As expected, we see automobiles and motorcycles, we see buses and vans used for public transportation.
But, too, sharing this same six-lane road, we see tuk tuks weaving in and out, and we see horse and donkey-drawn carriages clinging close to the right-hand shoulder.
Families, our guide explains, share rides atop motorcycles. At one point, we see this: an adult steering, a sleeping toddler leaning on the driver’s back, another adult supporting the toddler, followed by an adolescent. This, we would not see on US 68, but then again, we are not on US 68. And this family is making it work.
Oruba Road, upon our return to the airport at the conclusion of our stay in Egypt, is without traffic. To be fair, it’s 5 a.m. and still dark. Normally, this is an ideal travel situation. But I confess to missing the action we experienced upon our arrival.
Fortunately, the sidewalks, parks and adjacent areas are dotted with groups of people.
“All families,” our guide points out. “These are families who have been out since 5 and 6 o’clock last night for the celebration (Al Adha Eid). And now they are considering going home.”
Out all night? I contemplate the shape I would be in if I had been out all night. Not a pleasant thought. Yet these people are still smiling.
“And you were out last night as well?” I inquire of our guide.
“Yes,” he replies. “I was out until 2 a.m.”
And yet he’s alert and attentive and eager to assist us on the final leg of our journey in his country. And we are grateful.
When stepping out of our world into someone else’s unfamiliar world, we undoubtedly open ourselves up to the unexpected. But hopefully to appreciation as well.
(Note: Marjorie Appelman is a retired English, communications and journalism teacher of Mason County High School and co-founder of the travel blog Tales from the Trip, which is on Instagram and Facebook. She can be reached at marj.appelman@gmail.com.)