In some strange way I've become convinced that the cars are softer here.
Crossing a busy street in Cairo is like walking stairs, except you don't know ahead of time when and how deep or high the next step is going to be. This means you have to stand in the middle of the street while the traffic in front of you and behind you races past at high speed. The trick is to calmly wait until the next step presents itself so you can continue.
After four weeks I can now cross the street without creating the impression of an anxious animal. But there's another reason for this: I notice that my fear of being hit has subsided. In some strange way I've become convinced that the cars are softer here; the steel of the bumpers will bend and the black finish will melt as soon as I come in contact with it.