A last day in Cairo
I was on the wrong side of the desert and very nearly said no.
I had come home to El Gouna late at night after a long day in Cairo with other guests, more tired than I like to admit. Waiting for me was a request, at the last minute: a guest in Cairo hoping I could be there the next day, the last of her trip.
There is a long stretch of desert between the Red Sea and the Nile, and I had only just crossed it. I had my reply half written, the polite one that says another time. I deleted it, told her it would happen, and the next afternoon I went back the way I had come.
A last day changes what a day is for. Nobody wants to see everything on their way out of a city. They want to leave feeling they understood it a little. So we did not hurry. We started as the afternoon turned to evening, went into old Cairo and through Khan el-Khalili, where the lanes narrow until the shops seem to lean together, and the copper, the spice and the lamps are all at arm’s length. Then on to Al-Hussein, where the old city is at its most alive.
Then dinner. Cairo is not where anyone expects the best sushi of their life, and I took her to the place I would put against anywhere.
Late that night I left her at the door of the place where she was staying and took the long road back to El Gouna.
We are still in touch, and she has kindly let me tell this. That day did more for me than I can easily explain, and I hope it did as much for her. It is the clearest answer I have to why I do this work. I do not remember being tired. I remember the day.
Aladdin