The young man who used to try to short-change me daily at Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf now brings me my coffee at my table. I optimistically theorize that he respects that I've learned the currency, not that he's spitting in my coffee after I snarled at him over ten pounds the second time he did it.
And in the coffee shop where I was uploading files, the young Egyptian waiter playfully mocked my pronounciation of croque monsieur.
"Croak Mons-your?" He laughed. "It's croque monsieur, Madam."
Bring me one, whatever it is. And a mango juice, while you're at it.
Then a bellhop in an elevator yesterday said "This is not your first time in Egypt, is it? Do you know how I can tell? You are not scared."
Maybe I'm adjusting. Or maybe they're just mistaking exhaustion for confidence. Not necessarily exhaustion at Egypt. Just your average everyday run-of-the-mill burn-out. But yesterday, I laughed that the laundry man ironed my jeans and returned them on a hanger wrapped in plastic. Maybe there's hope for enthusiasm after all.