There is no one word or phrase to sum up my experience in Egypt. It was one of the most interesting and thought-provoking experiences I've ever had. So, instead of trying to articulate it succinctly before I've finished processing it all, I'm just going to provide some excerpts from the travel journal I kept during the trip. Hopefully the pictures will help to relate the experience, too.
April 7
Flew into Cairo this afternoon. Now we're on a sleeper train to Aswan. Just a glimpse of Cairo, but it's loud, more energy than Jordan, though it also smells worse. The genders are completely separated on the metro, except the occasional woman travelling in the men's car under the protection of her husband, brother or father. More than 90% of the women wear hijab [more than in Jordan]. Katie and I definitely stand out just for having visible hair. However, the Egyptian women seem overall less serious, more playful and they wear brighter colors and more fashionable outfits. At night, there are more women in the streets. Two street teenagers hopped on the women's car to sell comics. The women did not seem pleased but no one said anything. The metro car is a beautiful example of a loving community of women. Women joke and laugh and help strangers, holding a hand as someone enters the car or steadying a fellow woman during a bumpy moment. Many men wear the long earth and desert shaded dresses.
April 8
Train hisses like a snake around curves. Our view is of palm trees, leafy pastureland, the occasional turbaned men, goats, cows. A white donkey stands still as a stone statue against waving emerald green grass. I love sleeping on a train. The constant movement defeats the insomnia. [...] It's difficult for me to deal with only one isolated issue at once. I struggle. As if trying to make a braid with one strand of hair. [...] Walking in the Souk in Aswan, I struggle to control my temper. The stand owners are aggressive and a man tries to feel me up on the street. I think he is reaching for my purse but no - my breast - I yelp and shout at him, "STOP," and then he starts yelling at me. [...] We are literally alone on the island of the Temple of Isis. Sad for Egypt, but surreal for us. A small snake, the same color as the sand and thinner than my finger, floats across the stone. It is a vibration, a visible wisp of wind that disappears into a crack of Isis's temple as if he is a tiny incarnation, a magic trick performed for us - trespassers - by the goddess of magic herself on the barren ruins no one comes to anymore after the revolution. Before we came here, an angry boatman wrestled a price from us for the motorboat. We got it down only to 100 pounds for the four of us. Small grey-tan colored birds flit about disappearing into crevices, too, called back to Isis, fleeting tricks of pleasure. All the animals are the same color as the stone and the desert. They say Isis found the pieces of her husband's body and re-pieced them together. [...] In the Souk, I say rudely to a man hassling us -- Ma3 bidi, shukran -- and he says -- No need to be angry, Go away -- and Katie says -- We will. I feel badly afterwards, but we're tired of being treated as money bags or sex machines. We are people. It is fair to be angry and it does not make me an arrogant American. It only makes me a young curious woman who respects herself. And it does not make Islam or Allah directly responsible for a cultural phenomena. [...] I am not a stranger. I am just a broken woman searching for lost pieces to put together. We are just searching, like Isis, for something that was stolen and broken into pieces and scattered around the world. [...] A man makes me pay too much for a fruit juice and I sit and drink it in the shade of Isis's temple. He asks me again -- Where from? And I wish I could say something other than America so I don't have to watch the greed spark in his eyes. [...] On the ride back, the boatman says -- I want to see you again -- and I think -- Why? -- we can barely speak in broken Arabic and English to each other. I am not exotic.
April 9
Sounds outside my open window this morning: whistles, man over loudspeaker talking in Arabic, call and response with coordinated clapping, donkeys, sheep, yelling, carts rattling down the road, children playing. [...] Beside every gas station, there are cars stretching for kilometers, waiting. [...] We met 2 guys yesterday, friends of Jason's, who are sailing up and down the Nile talking to as many people as they can and then writing a book about life in Egypt after the Revolution. I've been so irritated by the heckling all day and feeling like I was getting played by everyone. One of these guys was saying how desperate everyone is. How when they approach tourists on the street, they may have a clear vision in their minds of what they might use that money for and its been germinating there for months, maybe the prospect of marriage or feeding babies. [...] Our hostel host, Aco, was pissed last night because he said Jason "shit him" which really just meant that we were not coerced into accepting the exact itinerary that he proposed for us [and would financially benefit him the most] [...] There is also the critique of foreigners, specifically the many tourists that have visited Egypt for so many years, that they come here to see the ruins of dead people with no real interest in the Egyptians that are still alive. What can that do over decades to the mentality of self-worth of the Egyptian people?
April 10
Today we went to the ruins on Elephantine Island. I'm sitting in a Nubian restaurant upstairs overlooking the island. There are brilliantly colored woven carpets, straw roof and mounted baby crocodiles hanging from the ceiling. There's also a live baby crocodile in a glass case. [...] Sitting on a felucca [sailboat] for the night. Mickey Mouse blankets cover the floor of the boat for sleeping and the paintings on the side of the boat are Rastafarian-themed. Katie comments on the irony of the full-circle trek of Bob Marley influence back to Africa. Our captain is Captain Ziggy and he's wearing a T-shirt with the marijuana leaf. [...] We moored along the shore in some reeds and got out to what felt like an island from the movies: palm trees, sand, palm fronds deserted and blackening like decaying animal bone. We walked for a ways and encountered small plots of farmland with the farmers and their cows. The farmers were friendly and conversed with Jason in Arabic. We walked on, watching our feet to avoid animal poop on the ground, and finally we came to a housing compound beside a sand dune. The Nubian compound had walls but few ceilings and as we climbed the sand dune, we were unintentionally looking into the home of a Nubian family. At the top, we could see a majestic view of our "island" which was probably just one bank of the Nile. As we walked, or slid, down the sand dune, we were surrounded by Nubian children shouting "Hi-lo." John yells back Hello to one small girl at the base of the dune and she freezes mid-wave, shocked to be addressed despite her persistent calling, one black hand raised, bright pink clothing against the sand. The young boys start racing Andrew and John and they quickly surround us and invite us into their compound. There is a wide open space in the middle of the compound and we're seated on an old rusty bed-frame in the middle. They spread a blanket next to us and all the children, the grandmother and even the father sit below us. There were 3 adult women and 1 adult man. They serve us red tea that tastes like TheraFlu. [...] At night, there is a 3/4 moon and I lay in the sand under it. Some Egyptians and our felucca captain and a Belgian and a German start drumming on slender tambourine-type objects and chanting some beautiful call and response. It was one of those surreal Can't-Believe-I'm-in-Egypt moments or even on this side of the Atlantic and I felt so alone and bold and strong. [...] John fainted because he got a splinter stuck in his hand and for a while they couldn't get it out. The moon disappeared and I said -- The moon has left us -- and John said -- That fickle bitch!
April 11
Last night I woke up to cold and rain which apparently only happens "once a year." It was unbelievable given the heat of the day. [...] Misunderstandings happen constantly between human beings, let alone people of different languages and cultures. When is it worth the energy needed to avoid such errors? Sometimes it feels like that energy is wasted, or worse, counterproductive. [...] Rode on the boat all day, talking, sleeping, listening to music, reading. Swam in the Nile and it was so cold I couldn't breathe for 20 seconds after I came up. It was lovely and refreshing. [...] Stopped at an island to get food. There are boys playing everywhere and donkeys with two front legs tied together so they have to hop forward awkwardly. The Egyptians force the horses into the water to cool off. John and Lily start a game of Frisbee with a group of young boys using a tin bowl from the boat and Andrew play football with a group of shabab.
April 12
Got up a 6:30am to boat into Daraw where we caught a train to Luxor. Got on board a small bus with long planks down the side for seats like the ones for transporting criminals in the movies. The ride was bumpy and I still have my sea legs. [...] At the train station in Luxor, we are quickly ushered into the "Tourist Police" room because of a gun/knife fight over a ticket dispute. As we leave the station, we are escorted on all sides by Egyptian men. I'm unsure whether they are officials or volunteers. We are brought into a police station for protection and encounter a middle-aged European couple with a beautiful porcelain-skinned, red-headed freckled daughter, about 11 years old. They tell us they'd been attacked the day before by an angry felucca boatman. The daughter had even been kicked while trying to retrieve her dad's glasses during the fight. As we walk out of the police station, someone is bike peddling away on a food cart. Women in black veils and a couple of men run after the cart. They stop the person at the circle about 10 m in front of us and the yelling heightens. What shocked me is how quickly the violence escalates. 10 seconds after I first notice the cart passing me, there are men with 3-meter rods smashing people and the cart. Quickly the circle fills with people yelling and pushing and watching. A couple Egyptians from the station come and help us hail a taxi in the circle. We walk past the cart-smashing quickly, shielding ourselves from the flying glass and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. [...] In the Valley of the Queens, a man approaches with T-shirts and black ceramic figurines that probably have minimal cultural significance and were manufactured in East Asia and he says "Hi-lo" to me from afar in a singsong voice that makes me hate my own first language. A man tells me I can take pictures inside Nerfertari's tomb but it's a secret and he covers his mouth with 3 fingers and crosses his wrists. I think it's a human connection and he points out a goddess with a Scorpion on her head and I try to tell him I am fascinated by the Scorpion but he doesn't care. He's just thinking about the money I'll owe him for allowing me to break the sacred doctrine on picture-taking in Nerfertari's tomb.
April 13
I'm sitting overlooking a Cairo city street in a second story restaurant waiting for Egyptian pancakes. Our hostel is overlooking Cairo with a balcony and unbelievable view. It's directly beside a heavily guarded synagogue. [...] Saw the Pyramids and the Sphinx. She is amazing, both majestic and sassy. Walked up inside the Great Pyramid into a room hot as a sauna and filled only with an ominous rectangular prism, the empty tomb of a pharaoh. [...] On the metro, a small brother bothers his tween sister who wears a pink shirt, pink beads and white over-shirt tied in front over her flat chest. The boy plays, untying her shirt, the mother stares and says nothing. [...] We eat dinner in a French restaurant and Lily stops talking mid-sentence as protestors fill the street outside, marching and chanting. They march past after 5 minutes and we resume our conversation.
April 14
Go toward the Egyptian museum today, take the metro to Tehrir Square and walk straight into the largest gathering of people I've ever seen. Katie and I are alone this time and feel conspicuous. We cover our heads with scarves and the attention wanes. The museum is closed because of the protests. We're intercepted by a young man wearing the Egyptian flag as a cape. He follows us for many blocks, walking beside me and saying -- You're beautiful -- and -- I want to marry you -- and when I don't respond he starts to get angry and I'm afraid. Finally we walk by some other men who start scolding him for bothering us and we're able to get away and cross the bridge to the other side of the Nile. We sit in a beautiful serene garden leaning against a 10 m tall hieroglyphic column. There are birds chirping here and the noise from the other side of the Nile wafts to us, drums, we can feel the beats in our feet, shouts, microphoned chants and responses. The people leak out from Tehrir and onto the surrounding streets and bridges. There must be thousands of them. This is an angry revolutionary energy I've never known before. The beautiful melody of a bagpipe blends with the angry shouts and demands of the mob. It is an absurd atmosphere of carnival and violence. All the noises almost make me forget the bird chirps happening right beside me, almost like an audio version of an optical illusion. I refocus my ears and I hear two completely different worlds. [...] Tried to walk to a sculpture museum nearby but we ran into another protest and the museum was closed anyway. We tried to walk back to the hotel but couldn't navigate without running into another part of the protest. We finally hailed a cab. [...] Had drinks with Mona and her family. One of Mona's cousins drove us home straight through Tehrir Square, now full of families and vendors with food and trinkets.
April 15
Meet Mona and her family in Islamic Cairo, then have lunch with her family. They bring us to Carniche nearby, meaning Brink of Hell. [...] Have dinner and shisha with Jason, John, Faroq and Andrew.
April 16
Eat breakfast at a bean cart in the market. [...] Ride metro to the Egyptian museum again. Meet a young Egyptian student and her teacher and I speak to them for almost an hour in my terrible Arabic. They are so friendly and so typically Arab, meaning they have no personal boundaries. They ask me about my love life -- Are you married? -- La' -- Are you engaged -- La' -- Do you have a boyfriend -- La', Alone -- to which they cannot understand -- You Don't Want Love?! -- to which my limited Arabic has no adequate response. This follows with, unabashedly -- Do you cook? -- I do know how, but I do not enjoy it -- to which they just take to mean I don't know how. They ask -- So, your mother always cooked for you -- No, mostly my father -- met by rapid, excited Arabic directed toward 2 nearby male friends which she roughly translates as being -- Your father is the best man in the world! They also inquire about my religion and if I am Muslim -- La', ma3 andi religion -- meaning I don't have Religion. I am met with blank stares. They obviously think I am messing up the Arabic. They say -- No, we mean, are you Protestant or what? I try to explain that I believe in God, but don't practice a specific religion, but, again, I don't think my Arabic does justice to what I want to express. We end the interaction with me signing my full name to their green student sashes. I enjoy watching them roll my name around in their mouths, enjoying the taste of new foreign never-heard sounds just as I did when I was first learning Arabic. [...] We visit the Al-Azhar mosque in Islamic Cairo and it is my favorite mosque I've ever seen. Inside it is calm and serene. The courtyard is white marble and the inside is wood. People pray, sleep and converse. Young men study in the mosques' library. I learn that the mosque is the center for Sunni Islam education and the second oldest educational institution in the world. A group of beautiful black-skinned men in white robes and emerald green scarves enter the mosque on wooden canes.
April 7
Flew into Cairo this afternoon. Now we're on a sleeper train to Aswan. Just a glimpse of Cairo, but it's loud, more energy than Jordan, though it also smells worse. The genders are completely separated on the metro, except the occasional woman travelling in the men's car under the protection of her husband, brother or father. More than 90% of the women wear hijab [more than in Jordan]. Katie and I definitely stand out just for having visible hair. However, the Egyptian women seem overall less serious, more playful and they wear brighter colors and more fashionable outfits. At night, there are more women in the streets. Two street teenagers hopped on the women's car to sell comics. The women did not seem pleased but no one said anything. The metro car is a beautiful example of a loving community of women. Women joke and laugh and help strangers, holding a hand as someone enters the car or steadying a fellow woman during a bumpy moment. Many men wear the long earth and desert shaded dresses.
April 8
Train hisses like a snake around curves. Our view is of palm trees, leafy pastureland, the occasional turbaned men, goats, cows. A white donkey stands still as a stone statue against waving emerald green grass. I love sleeping on a train. The constant movement defeats the insomnia. [...] It's difficult for me to deal with only one isolated issue at once. I struggle. As if trying to make a braid with one strand of hair. [...] Walking in the Souk in Aswan, I struggle to control my temper. The stand owners are aggressive and a man tries to feel me up on the street. I think he is reaching for my purse but no - my breast - I yelp and shout at him, "STOP," and then he starts yelling at me. [...] We are literally alone on the island of the Temple of Isis. Sad for Egypt, but surreal for us. A small snake, the same color as the sand and thinner than my finger, floats across the stone. It is a vibration, a visible wisp of wind that disappears into a crack of Isis's temple as if he is a tiny incarnation, a magic trick performed for us - trespassers - by the goddess of magic herself on the barren ruins no one comes to anymore after the revolution. Before we came here, an angry boatman wrestled a price from us for the motorboat. We got it down only to 100 pounds for the four of us. Small grey-tan colored birds flit about disappearing into crevices, too, called back to Isis, fleeting tricks of pleasure. All the animals are the same color as the stone and the desert. They say Isis found the pieces of her husband's body and re-pieced them together. [...] In the Souk, I say rudely to a man hassling us -- Ma3 bidi, shukran -- and he says -- No need to be angry, Go away -- and Katie says -- We will. I feel badly afterwards, but we're tired of being treated as money bags or sex machines. We are people. It is fair to be angry and it does not make me an arrogant American. It only makes me a young curious woman who respects herself. And it does not make Islam or Allah directly responsible for a cultural phenomena. [...] I am not a stranger. I am just a broken woman searching for lost pieces to put together. We are just searching, like Isis, for something that was stolen and broken into pieces and scattered around the world. [...] A man makes me pay too much for a fruit juice and I sit and drink it in the shade of Isis's temple. He asks me again -- Where from? And I wish I could say something other than America so I don't have to watch the greed spark in his eyes. [...] On the ride back, the boatman says -- I want to see you again -- and I think -- Why? -- we can barely speak in broken Arabic and English to each other. I am not exotic.
April 9
Sounds outside my open window this morning: whistles, man over loudspeaker talking in Arabic, call and response with coordinated clapping, donkeys, sheep, yelling, carts rattling down the road, children playing. [...] Beside every gas station, there are cars stretching for kilometers, waiting. [...] We met 2 guys yesterday, friends of Jason's, who are sailing up and down the Nile talking to as many people as they can and then writing a book about life in Egypt after the Revolution. I've been so irritated by the heckling all day and feeling like I was getting played by everyone. One of these guys was saying how desperate everyone is. How when they approach tourists on the street, they may have a clear vision in their minds of what they might use that money for and its been germinating there for months, maybe the prospect of marriage or feeding babies. [...] Our hostel host, Aco, was pissed last night because he said Jason "shit him" which really just meant that we were not coerced into accepting the exact itinerary that he proposed for us [and would financially benefit him the most] [...] There is also the critique of foreigners, specifically the many tourists that have visited Egypt for so many years, that they come here to see the ruins of dead people with no real interest in the Egyptians that are still alive. What can that do over decades to the mentality of self-worth of the Egyptian people?
April 10
Today we went to the ruins on Elephantine Island. I'm sitting in a Nubian restaurant upstairs overlooking the island. There are brilliantly colored woven carpets, straw roof and mounted baby crocodiles hanging from the ceiling. There's also a live baby crocodile in a glass case. [...] Sitting on a felucca [sailboat] for the night. Mickey Mouse blankets cover the floor of the boat for sleeping and the paintings on the side of the boat are Rastafarian-themed. Katie comments on the irony of the full-circle trek of Bob Marley influence back to Africa. Our captain is Captain Ziggy and he's wearing a T-shirt with the marijuana leaf. [...] We moored along the shore in some reeds and got out to what felt like an island from the movies: palm trees, sand, palm fronds deserted and blackening like decaying animal bone. We walked for a ways and encountered small plots of farmland with the farmers and their cows. The farmers were friendly and conversed with Jason in Arabic. We walked on, watching our feet to avoid animal poop on the ground, and finally we came to a housing compound beside a sand dune. The Nubian compound had walls but few ceilings and as we climbed the sand dune, we were unintentionally looking into the home of a Nubian family. At the top, we could see a majestic view of our "island" which was probably just one bank of the Nile. As we walked, or slid, down the sand dune, we were surrounded by Nubian children shouting "Hi-lo." John yells back Hello to one small girl at the base of the dune and she freezes mid-wave, shocked to be addressed despite her persistent calling, one black hand raised, bright pink clothing against the sand. The young boys start racing Andrew and John and they quickly surround us and invite us into their compound. There is a wide open space in the middle of the compound and we're seated on an old rusty bed-frame in the middle. They spread a blanket next to us and all the children, the grandmother and even the father sit below us. There were 3 adult women and 1 adult man. They serve us red tea that tastes like TheraFlu. [...] At night, there is a 3/4 moon and I lay in the sand under it. Some Egyptians and our felucca captain and a Belgian and a German start drumming on slender tambourine-type objects and chanting some beautiful call and response. It was one of those surreal Can't-Believe-I'm-in-Egypt moments or even on this side of the Atlantic and I felt so alone and bold and strong. [...] John fainted because he got a splinter stuck in his hand and for a while they couldn't get it out. The moon disappeared and I said -- The moon has left us -- and John said -- That fickle bitch!
April 11
Last night I woke up to cold and rain which apparently only happens "once a year." It was unbelievable given the heat of the day. [...] Misunderstandings happen constantly between human beings, let alone people of different languages and cultures. When is it worth the energy needed to avoid such errors? Sometimes it feels like that energy is wasted, or worse, counterproductive. [...] Rode on the boat all day, talking, sleeping, listening to music, reading. Swam in the Nile and it was so cold I couldn't breathe for 20 seconds after I came up. It was lovely and refreshing. [...] Stopped at an island to get food. There are boys playing everywhere and donkeys with two front legs tied together so they have to hop forward awkwardly. The Egyptians force the horses into the water to cool off. John and Lily start a game of Frisbee with a group of young boys using a tin bowl from the boat and Andrew play football with a group of shabab.
April 12
Got up a 6:30am to boat into Daraw where we caught a train to Luxor. Got on board a small bus with long planks down the side for seats like the ones for transporting criminals in the movies. The ride was bumpy and I still have my sea legs. [...] At the train station in Luxor, we are quickly ushered into the "Tourist Police" room because of a gun/knife fight over a ticket dispute. As we leave the station, we are escorted on all sides by Egyptian men. I'm unsure whether they are officials or volunteers. We are brought into a police station for protection and encounter a middle-aged European couple with a beautiful porcelain-skinned, red-headed freckled daughter, about 11 years old. They tell us they'd been attacked the day before by an angry felucca boatman. The daughter had even been kicked while trying to retrieve her dad's glasses during the fight. As we walk out of the police station, someone is bike peddling away on a food cart. Women in black veils and a couple of men run after the cart. They stop the person at the circle about 10 m in front of us and the yelling heightens. What shocked me is how quickly the violence escalates. 10 seconds after I first notice the cart passing me, there are men with 3-meter rods smashing people and the cart. Quickly the circle fills with people yelling and pushing and watching. A couple Egyptians from the station come and help us hail a taxi in the circle. We walk past the cart-smashing quickly, shielding ourselves from the flying glass and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. [...] In the Valley of the Queens, a man approaches with T-shirts and black ceramic figurines that probably have minimal cultural significance and were manufactured in East Asia and he says "Hi-lo" to me from afar in a singsong voice that makes me hate my own first language. A man tells me I can take pictures inside Nerfertari's tomb but it's a secret and he covers his mouth with 3 fingers and crosses his wrists. I think it's a human connection and he points out a goddess with a Scorpion on her head and I try to tell him I am fascinated by the Scorpion but he doesn't care. He's just thinking about the money I'll owe him for allowing me to break the sacred doctrine on picture-taking in Nerfertari's tomb.
April 13
I'm sitting overlooking a Cairo city street in a second story restaurant waiting for Egyptian pancakes. Our hostel is overlooking Cairo with a balcony and unbelievable view. It's directly beside a heavily guarded synagogue. [...] Saw the Pyramids and the Sphinx. She is amazing, both majestic and sassy. Walked up inside the Great Pyramid into a room hot as a sauna and filled only with an ominous rectangular prism, the empty tomb of a pharaoh. [...] On the metro, a small brother bothers his tween sister who wears a pink shirt, pink beads and white over-shirt tied in front over her flat chest. The boy plays, untying her shirt, the mother stares and says nothing. [...] We eat dinner in a French restaurant and Lily stops talking mid-sentence as protestors fill the street outside, marching and chanting. They march past after 5 minutes and we resume our conversation.
April 14
Go toward the Egyptian museum today, take the metro to Tehrir Square and walk straight into the largest gathering of people I've ever seen. Katie and I are alone this time and feel conspicuous. We cover our heads with scarves and the attention wanes. The museum is closed because of the protests. We're intercepted by a young man wearing the Egyptian flag as a cape. He follows us for many blocks, walking beside me and saying -- You're beautiful -- and -- I want to marry you -- and when I don't respond he starts to get angry and I'm afraid. Finally we walk by some other men who start scolding him for bothering us and we're able to get away and cross the bridge to the other side of the Nile. We sit in a beautiful serene garden leaning against a 10 m tall hieroglyphic column. There are birds chirping here and the noise from the other side of the Nile wafts to us, drums, we can feel the beats in our feet, shouts, microphoned chants and responses. The people leak out from Tehrir and onto the surrounding streets and bridges. There must be thousands of them. This is an angry revolutionary energy I've never known before. The beautiful melody of a bagpipe blends with the angry shouts and demands of the mob. It is an absurd atmosphere of carnival and violence. All the noises almost make me forget the bird chirps happening right beside me, almost like an audio version of an optical illusion. I refocus my ears and I hear two completely different worlds. [...] Tried to walk to a sculpture museum nearby but we ran into another protest and the museum was closed anyway. We tried to walk back to the hotel but couldn't navigate without running into another part of the protest. We finally hailed a cab. [...] Had drinks with Mona and her family. One of Mona's cousins drove us home straight through Tehrir Square, now full of families and vendors with food and trinkets.
April 15
Meet Mona and her family in Islamic Cairo, then have lunch with her family. They bring us to Carniche nearby, meaning Brink of Hell. [...] Have dinner and shisha with Jason, John, Faroq and Andrew.
April 16
Eat breakfast at a bean cart in the market. [...] Ride metro to the Egyptian museum again. Meet a young Egyptian student and her teacher and I speak to them for almost an hour in my terrible Arabic. They are so friendly and so typically Arab, meaning they have no personal boundaries. They ask me about my love life -- Are you married? -- La' -- Are you engaged -- La' -- Do you have a boyfriend -- La', Alone -- to which they cannot understand -- You Don't Want Love?! -- to which my limited Arabic has no adequate response. This follows with, unabashedly -- Do you cook? -- I do know how, but I do not enjoy it -- to which they just take to mean I don't know how. They ask -- So, your mother always cooked for you -- No, mostly my father -- met by rapid, excited Arabic directed toward 2 nearby male friends which she roughly translates as being -- Your father is the best man in the world! They also inquire about my religion and if I am Muslim -- La', ma3 andi religion -- meaning I don't have Religion. I am met with blank stares. They obviously think I am messing up the Arabic. They say -- No, we mean, are you Protestant or what? I try to explain that I believe in God, but don't practice a specific religion, but, again, I don't think my Arabic does justice to what I want to express. We end the interaction with me signing my full name to their green student sashes. I enjoy watching them roll my name around in their mouths, enjoying the taste of new foreign never-heard sounds just as I did when I was first learning Arabic. [...] We visit the Al-Azhar mosque in Islamic Cairo and it is my favorite mosque I've ever seen. Inside it is calm and serene. The courtyard is white marble and the inside is wood. People pray, sleep and converse. Young men study in the mosques' library. I learn that the mosque is the center for Sunni Islam education and the second oldest educational institution in the world. A group of beautiful black-skinned men in white robes and emerald green scarves enter the mosque on wooden canes.
Our first dinner in Aswan, Egypt.
Hostel #1 of many.
More aesthetics of our Aswan hostel.
Look at that indigo.
Isis temple to ourselves.
On top of the ruins at Elephantine Island.
Some remains at Elephantine Island.
At a Nubian restaurant on Elephantine Island. With alligators on the ceiling.
And even a real baby timsaa7!
A delicious home-cooked meal.
On a felucca on the Nile for 2 nights.
Our desert island or first sleeping place.
On top of a sand dune overlooking a Nubian home.
After swimming in the Nile, Inshallah bilharzia free.
On the banks of the Nile.
Nile sunset.
On the train to Luxor.
At Karnak temple in Luxor.
The Pyramids.
Love in the desert.
The Sphinx.
In Tehrir Square.
More graffiti in Tehrir.
Katie in the courtyard of Al Azhar mosque in Islamic Cairo.
On the train to Luxor.
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| Grafitti in Tehrir Square. |
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| Young and old, in prayer. |
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