Home, Sweet Home
It has been a whirlwind trip to Cairo—6 days to be exact, squeezed into one measly week of Spring Break. In celebration of the near completion of my master's studies, I happily returned to my beloved Cairo, the place I called home for six years of my life. A token day for every year of my life I spent in that amazing place.
As soon as I stepped into the airport in Cairo, I had that old familiar and comfortable feeling—like stepping back into a pair of the most comfortable shoes you've ever worn--the guys in their orange and blue jump suits sweeping away, the putrid smoke of Cleopatra cigarettes dangling out of everyone's mouths, the worn red carpet as I walk down the ramp where tons of Egyptian men are grouped holding signs and beckoning their guests toward them. I know the routine and walk directly to the bank to buy my visa. Then I head to Passport Control, feeling the thrill of being home again welling up in me. I already hear the foreigners in line behind me complaining about being overcharged for their visas even though the prices are clearly posted. Oh boy. Some things never change.
I easily slip right back in to that purposeful gaze that looks through and past everyone in my way, averting eye contact by staring at the official's shoulder as I answer his questions and quickly make my way through passport control. So far, so good. Both suitcases pop up on the conveyor belt quickly and I lug them onto my cart and head for the door. Hany is waiting for me, not surprisingly talking on his cell phone, and I give him a quick wave before focusing on maneuvering my cart out into the dark night toward him.
He takes my passport and heads to the duty-free shop to buy alcohol and chocolate and then we start to board the shuttle to take us to his car. Two guys in those gorgeous orange and blue jump suits appear out of nowhere and fight to load my luggage into the shuttle, wanting a bit of "baksheesh" for their efforts. I haven't changed any money yet, so I let Hany deal with them and then we're off into the yellowish dusty night streets of Cairo with horns honking and cars weaving back and forth. Traffic moves in a weaving mass of vehicles, creating space and moving freely in and out of lanes at various speeds. Ahhhhh. It feels so good to be home!
As soon as I stepped into the airport in Cairo, I had that old familiar and comfortable feeling—like stepping back into a pair of the most comfortable shoes you've ever worn--the guys in their orange and blue jump suits sweeping away, the putrid smoke of Cleopatra cigarettes dangling out of everyone's mouths, the worn red carpet as I walk down the ramp where tons of Egyptian men are grouped holding signs and beckoning their guests toward them. I know the routine and walk directly to the bank to buy my visa. Then I head to Passport Control, feeling the thrill of being home again welling up in me. I already hear the foreigners in line behind me complaining about being overcharged for their visas even though the prices are clearly posted. Oh boy. Some things never change.
I easily slip right back in to that purposeful gaze that looks through and past everyone in my way, averting eye contact by staring at the official's shoulder as I answer his questions and quickly make my way through passport control. So far, so good. Both suitcases pop up on the conveyor belt quickly and I lug them onto my cart and head for the door. Hany is waiting for me, not surprisingly talking on his cell phone, and I give him a quick wave before focusing on maneuvering my cart out into the dark night toward him.
He takes my passport and heads to the duty-free shop to buy alcohol and chocolate and then we start to board the shuttle to take us to his car. Two guys in those gorgeous orange and blue jump suits appear out of nowhere and fight to load my luggage into the shuttle, wanting a bit of "baksheesh" for their efforts. I haven't changed any money yet, so I let Hany deal with them and then we're off into the yellowish dusty night streets of Cairo with horns honking and cars weaving back and forth. Traffic moves in a weaving mass of vehicles, creating space and moving freely in and out of lanes at various speeds. Ahhhhh. It feels so good to be home!
posted by J4CK13 at 11:37 AM
1 Comments:
What an amazing piece of writing! I've been savoring it all day. The only thing that could have improved it would be an addendum to the title: "Part 1 of 10".
We, the J4CK13 nation demand it! Tell us more about Cairo!!
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