Cairo

Cairo, “land of the mummies,” ground zero of the Arab Spring. Sitting on the bridge known for the video of the riot truck running over protesters, it's bumper to bumper traffic, incessant honking, a non-stop swarm of humanity. Brown, dusty, hot, alive with a constant hum of humanity.

A mosque rises next to rows of the ubiquitous cinder block housing, dull but effective at combating the constant fight against an exploding population. Advertisements of western-made amenities overlooking a constant flood of election banners. Teams of youth walk the streets, most likely many of whom are responsible for the downfall of a once vaunted security apparatus, an event that shocked the world.

Busy 8 lane highways flanked by tiny attempts at road-side convenience stores. A couple sitting on their 10 story balcony drinking tea, under a canopy of tangled electrical and TV cords as convoluted as the political system.

Everywhere you look, people are busy. Working, buying food, driving home. These are the people that brought down the Mideast's supposedly most firmly-entrenched political system. A people tired of revolution and wanting to regain a semblance of stability, some are anxious, others are increasingly hopeful, that the recent elections will produce positive results.

This is real humanity, not a Saudi investor's pet project of building an artificial city along the sea to coax more tourist dollars. Everywhere you look, there is no shortage of political graffiti, Islamic slogans, and unfortunately, trash. And lest one forget, the Great Pyramids overlook the city, reminding you that this is, in fact, Umm ad-Dunia, Mother of the World.

It's not pretty, but it is colossal. East meets West, Islamic meets secular, rich meets poor. Certainly, dichotomizing leaves major societal elements out of the discussion. But it is hard to completely encompass exactly what is Cairo, Africa's largest city.

Traveling

Coming back from a trip to Hurghada on the Red Sea, it's 8:00 pm and we still have about 4 hours of bus ride left. One day of class tomorrow separates us from a trip to Sharm al-Sheikh, also on the Red Sea but in Sinai.

It's easy sometimes to get used to the traveling and sight seeing. But then sometimes it's impossible not to pinch yourself and realize just how lucky you are. I've been able to travel to the Mideast on 5 different occasions, to 4 different countries. In the process I've made countless friends and spent many moments like this wondering why it's me who gets to experience this.

Eleven hours on a bus makes time for a lot of contemplation and reminiscing of what I've seen and where. The Arab Spring in Yemen, the Wall between Israel and Palestine, the Pyramids, countless Roman ruins in Jordan, etc.

I've talked with a multitude of people in more than one dialect about a plethora of issues. I've seen the pollution of Cairo, the still extant remnants of the great Hellenic civilization in Alexandria, and the old city of Sana'a, one of just a few claimants to the title of oldest inhabited city in the wall.

But I think what is the most fulfilling about all of this isn't the pictures, nor the artificial cities along the coastline meant to attract European euros and American dollars. Instead, it's the countless people you interact with, the feeling of speaking to someone in their native language while hordes of Russian tourists thumb their noses at the locals, only desiring to get away from their reality somewhere far away.

It's the ability to be with 3 other people in a foreign land and take a 9 hour bus trip, just because, made possible by friends and friends of friends who are incredibly willing to host you, to a level of hospitality that is hard to grasp.

People back home always marvel at me traveling, as it most definitely is an irregularity. And I'm under no illusions that I'm incredibly privileged to be able to do this at a young age, and many people would love to but just can't.

But there are also those people who are more interested in spending their money on other pursuits, thinking that these trips are fruitless or perhaps a bit unusual. Still yet, there are those back home who could travel, yet simply have no interest in doing so. Also are those are choose to live in a land of great luxury, and yet denigrate it for minor deficiencies.

America certainly has its problems, not the least of which is a large unemployed or disadvantaged class. One need only look at Inner City America to see what real poverty is. However, I argue that traveling isn't an escape from a place I don't like, but a worthwhile venture that gives me a greater appreciation for where I come from. I have seen some interesting places, but everyday I talk to at least one person desperate for a visa to the US. I probably get begged 5 times a day by people struggling to feed their families. I live my life here in an incredibly inefficient social and business atmosphere.

I never knew what the meaning of home was until I came back from Egypt for the first time 2 years ago. Seeing the other side of the world makes a person really appreciate that neck of the woods they can call their own. The ability to know every street, speak a language without any difficulty, and easily blend in are definitely not to be underestimated. And it is only traveling that has given me that insight.