I was tired of standing so I flipped my backpack to its side and sat down. Viraj and I had already been waiting at the train station for close to 2 hours for the overnight train to Aswan to show up when I felt something tap me on my back. I turned around to find a girl, probably 8 years old, gesturing and telling me in Arabic that my shirt had come up and she could see some of my back. I hesitated for a second to gather what she was saying, then laughed and adjusted my shirt.
And that was all it took to break the ice.
Viraj opened a package of biscuits and offered them to the girl, her sister, and father, all of whom politely declined.
He and I started chatting when the girl's father interrupted us to ask how much we had paid at the train station kiosk for a packet of biscuits and a bag of chips. They had come to 7 Egyptian pounds (US $1) which I already knew was too much, but the father shook his head and said in broken English, “No! Two and a half pounds! Outside station, two and a half pounds!” He gave us a sad smile before excusing himself. The girls whispered excitedly with each other and I turned back to talk with Viraj.
A moment later the father returned, presenting Viraj and I each with a bag of chips, proudly declaring, “Two and a half pounds!”
Before we knew it, we found ourselves playing charades and putting the father's limited English to the test. The girls were twins, born 5 minutes apart, with Arabic names meaning sun and moon. They asked if Viraj and I were a couple, something people tend to assume when they see a brown man and semi-brown woman with the same accent traveling together, so we laughed hysterically at the idea, which prompted the father to ask if Viraj was my son! I'm not quite 5 years older than him, so this sent us into another fit of hysterics before I finally announced that he was my little brother. This was completely untrue but was much simpler (and funnier to us) than explaining that we are friends.
We talked about driving cars (at 32, I still don't know how to drive but the older of the twins apparently does), and our respective destinations, among other topics. There were, of course, a few things we weren't able to get across, including one line of questioning accompanied by a particular gesture from the older sister I interpreted to mean either, “Do you swim the breaststroke?” or “Watch me do the Thriller dance.”
By the time our train finally pulled into the station at 1am, just shy of 3 hours late, the girls had given me a Hello Kitty bracelet, I'd given them 2 purple hair bands in return, and the family and I used a cell phone and a camera to take a group photos so we could each remember the kind and amusing strangers who'd given us so much happiness in the middle of the night at the Giza train station.
On the train, Viraj and I found our seats and waved to the girls and their dad as we began the long journey south. They broke into huge grins and waved goodbye.
In the morning, still aboard the train, the Hello Kitty elastic bracelet had left a serious impression on my skin since its too small size was slowly cutting off my circulation, but I wasn't about to take it off.
