Bye

I left Egypt more than two weeks ago. I first went to London for a short while, and now I'm back in Norway. My Year Abroad is over. I wanted to write one last blog post still, I guess to sum up the past year and comment upon what I have learnt. Now that I'm sat down to write it, however, I don't even know where to start. But I'll try. So here goes:

Since September I've lived eight months in Alexandria, admired the Ottoman architecture of the small Delta-town Rosetta, learnt my way around what is probably Africa's biggest city - Cairo -, enjoyed the pleasant agricultural scenery around the lakes of Al-Fayoum, marvelled at the blueness of the water by the Mediterranean city of Marsa Matrouh, snorkelled some amazing reefs in the Red Sea by Hurghada, roamed the sand dunes in the desert around the oasis town Siwa, been astonished by the ancient temples and tombs of Luxor, chilled out in the backpacker beach town of Dahab, seen the true beauty of the Nile in Aswan, camped out in the moonscape of the White Desert and climbed a few hills in the Black Desert, explored some of the world's oldest monasteries - the monasteries of St. Anthony and St. Paul-, strolled around the Sufi stronghold of Tanta and tried to get a tan on the beaches of Sharm el-Sheikh.

I've tried every trick in the book to get hold of some small change, dodged the deadly traffic which is governed only by the principle of survival of the fittest, argued with countless taxi drivers who were trying to rip me off and hit on me simultaneously, and also heard of some amazing taxi drivers, like the one who insisted on my friends coming back to get their change as he thought they'd paid him too much. I've been drinking lovely fresh juice from the juice bars lining the streets, lounging in cafés till the early hours, never quite getting the taste for sheesha but warming to hot cider (the non-alcoholic kind, obviously). I've gotten used to security checks when entering a mall and to hearing the call to prayer sounding through the supermarket, and of course through the city as a whole. I've developed a soft spot for Sponge Bob, especially as an adornment on hijabs worn by middle-aged ladies or on t-shirts proudly worn by foxy young girls dressed to a tee. I've witnessed the most beautiful prayer in the desolateness of the desert, and I've seen a red moon rise. I've floated around in the middle of the sea which was as calm as a pool, and I've seen dolphins twice. I've gone from hardly speaking a word of Egyptian Arabic and viewing it as a slightly ugly dialect to being able to get what I want across in most situations, and realising when listening to some friends discussing football just how vivacious and funny this dialect is. I've asked for a plate instead of a top-up ("shahn" is so easily confused with "sahn") and had my Arabic laughed at so many times, but even more often people have applauded my Arabic before I've even finished a sentence, and most importantly I've happened across some people who have listened to me with endless patience and encouragement even when I got stuck and didn't quite know how to express myself. I've faced prejudice for the first time in my life and had comments directed at me pretty much every time I left the house. I've taken the train from Misr Station in Alexandria time and time again, a station which contains a hundred clocks, none of which show the right time. I've had my friend's niqabi wearing mum, who could have had all reason to eye me with scepticism, embrace me warmly the first time we met while trying to pronounce my name in the Norwegian way, and I've received scores of cute drawings of me from another friend's adorable little nieces. I've had friends and strangers opening up their homes to me, which is the most humbling experience. I've had many of my own sterotypes shattered and prejudices contradicted, which I am ever grateful for. I've celebrated the Norwegian National Day the 17th of May without a single Norwegian flag, but with tons of good friends to make up for it. I've seen the biggest church in the Middle East which is situated in the area of the garbage collectors, and I've met the Patriarch of Alexandria. I've attempted a few sand angels to no avail, rolled down a sand dune and had to empty my suitcase of sand before going on beach holiday. I've started assuming that if I feel drops of water landing on my head while outside, it's due to air conditioning and not rain. I've chatted with old people in a nursing home and been to the wedding of some orphans. I've been to the wedding of a friend. I've met up with the people from my class to laugh about the day's calamities, and started mixing Arabic phrases into my English. I've said "alhamdulillah" ("praise be to God") more times than I can count, and used "insha'allah" ("God willing") to get out of tricky situations. I've listened to endless discussions about politics, from which the main conclusion I could draw was that Egyptian politics is profoundly confusing. I've heard stories of the revolution and seen the graffiti around Tahrir Square which bears testimony to the hard struggle the people has been through, but I have also come to understand that the real revolution is probably far from over. I've heard people express all sorts of sentiment about the revolution, and sensed that what many people long most for now is some stability and predictability, but that they differ in the view of whether they want this even at the expense of freedom or not. I've learnt to always answer that I am now focusing on my studies and waiting until I have completed them when asked about whether I'm married or not, as I have found that this is the answer that is most easily accepted. I've danced on the Nile and on the school bus, and sung folk songs in the desert. I've avoided getting hit by the young guys cruising around on their motorcycles blasting loud music. I've spent many an hour on night buses and trains, and given directions to Cairenes in Cairo, which was a major victory as I'm generally known as a person with no sense of direction whatsoever. I've gotten used to the door bells which look like light switches and sound like birds, and been frustrated by the fact that our bills could only be paid in person, and that the people who collected the money for them always came in the middle of the day, when we were at school. I've gotten tans and lost them again. I've learnt how to put on a hijab and have passed as Turkish on a few occasions. I've been asked where I'm from one million times, and stubbornly replied "Alexandria" even though I knew that answer would not be accepted. I've breathed a sigh of relief every time I've come to the sea front of Alexandria from my flat inland, and I've been sat under the palm trees sipping on a cold drink, watching the sea and feeling as though I'm on holiday only meters away from the busy main road. I've taken off my jacket in the middle of the night because it was too hot. I've learnt my way around Alexandria, and the rest of Egypt to some degree, learnt more about how things work and how to deal with different situations, especially when things don't quite go as planned, progressively enjoying myself more. And I've made friends for life.

When the first vague idea of this blog post formed in my head, I think I was hoping to share some great insight with all of you. However, upon thinking more about it, I realise that I haven't gained any such great insight: I'm certainly no expert on the Arab world or Egypt or Egyptians or even Alexandria. I think I have rather gained many little insights, and this might not seem as impressive and they are certainly not very easy to express, as I can't even pinpoint exactly what they are. This random and anecdotal post probably doesn't even sum up the most important lessons and experiences from my time in Egypt, but hopefully it will give you a broad picture at least. Before leaving Alexandria, many of my friends talked about how they thought they had changed, but that they would only know to what extent upon their return home. I thought to myself that I hadn't changed much, but to my surprise I felt very different when returning to Europe. There is no drastic change, nothing tangible, but I guess it is the sum of all those little insights, which have not changed my outlook on life or anything as dramatic as that, but which will probably come in handy from time to time, making me perceive certain situations differently. So if you really want to see what I have learnt from my Year Abroad, I guess you need to spend time with me and brace yourself for a good many stories starting with "When I was in Egypt..." for the years to come.

...

At first coming back to England was a huge shock. I sat on the tube thinking that people dressed so weirdly - not only because of how much skin they were showing, but also with regards to the different styles of clothing, and I looked with astonishment at hipster kids and hip hop chicks. Seeing alcohol everywhere also shocked me, even more than it did when I first came from Norway, which has a much stricter alcohol policy. When I first moved to London from Norway I found it to be a big, chaotic city, but after Egypt I could appreciate just how organised and clean and silent it was. I also rediscovered the quirkiness of this city - where else would you stumble upon a bike repair shop combined with a café combined with an estate agent? I guess one of the good things about going away from a place is that you realise all the good things about it.

Coming back to Norway felt more natural, somehow, maybe because I had been to England first, or because I have grown used to coming back here after being abroad these past few years. It does, of course, seem incredibly calm and silent. One of the greatest things about where I live is that it is so close to the city centre of Oslo - half an hour on the underground and I can meet my friends to go see some strange French movie or hang out by the marina eating soft serve -, but it is also right by a forest with many lakes and rivers. You can thus easily switch from city life to nature. Taking my dog for a walk in the forest, the only sound being the wind ruffling the leaves of the trees, my eyes feasting upon the greenness of everything, asking myself as I always do how it is possible that there are so many shades of green, I must admit that Egypt seems a world away. However, it is all with me, and I think of events and episodes from the past year many, many times each day, normally with fondness. I am so glad I went.

This will be my last blog post, as there is no longer any Ajer in Alex, to my knowledge at least. Thanks for stopping by and maybe even following this blog, I hope you've enjoyed reading.

Year Abroad: Successful.

The last bit of sun

Things are coming to an end here. School ended almost two weeks ago, followed by a nice goodbye ceremony and one last bus trip from our school out in the desert back to Alex itself, during which we were dancing the whole time to loud local music. The next day, on the glorious 17th of May (the Norwegian National Day, that is - shame on you if you didn't know!) I hosted a barbeque with Flynne and Ant, to celebrate all things Norwegian and try to gather as many people as possible before we all were to go our separate ways. With about 60 guests - of which at least 10% was called Ahmed - I think it can be said to have been a success, even though the problem with inviting so many nice people is that you never get enough time to talk to everyone. The general consensus was that my cinnamon buns are better than those from Cinnabon - I hope. Anyone who disagrees can consider themselves uninvited from next year's party.

Ahmed, Rachel and I - Rachel is an honorary Norwegian now after her commendable effort to follow the dress code of red, white and blue as far as possible

Flynne, Shahmaan and I

The day after we set off for Cairo, and from there on we went to Sharm el-Sheikh and Dahab on the fabled coast of Sinai. I travelled with Arendse and Linda from my school - Arendse is Danish but raised in Italy, whereas Linda is Swedish with an Egyptian father, so we were a sort-of-Scandinavian crew. In the rest of Egypt I feel almost naked if I show my elbows, so it felt really weird but nice being able to wear short dresses and bikinis again. Especially in Dahab, where you can see Saudi right across the bay - must be quite a contrast from one side to the other. It was my first time in Sharm el-Sheikh, and we really enjoyed ourselves, lying on the beach or by the pool tanning, go-karting for the first time (need I mention that I won?) and I also went to a spa for the first time, in our awesome hotel. We had a big, nice room with a lovely bathroom, there was a lot to choose from for breakfast and there was a huge pool, and for all this we paid less than £10 each a night. Can't really complain about that.

It was a nice break from the rest of Egypt, and I achieved my main goal which was getting some more sun before going home. Still, a couple of days in Sharm-el Sheikh sufficed. It is a quite overwhelming and artificial place, and everything there seemed totally absurd after eight months in Egypt. At least all the cafés turned off the loud club music they were blasting during the call to prayer - so I guess some faint trace of Egyptian culture still remains.

I had been to Dahab once before, which I wrote about here. After coming from crazy Sharm it was a relief to reach calmer, smaller Dahab, where we could walk everywhere. The only drawback is that you will walk past the same tourist touts again and again, and therefore have to keep up a minimum of politeness - something I hardly have the patience for anymore after a school year in Egypt. As last time, our time in Dahab was very lazy. It made me so lazy in fact that I was happy not much happened as it meant I had less to blog about. We went snorkelling once in the famous Blue Hole, but apart from that we were mostly just soaking up sun. Even though Dahab is easier to handle than Sharm, it feels just as artificial to me, and whereas I'm happy we went on this holiday, they will probably not make any lasting impression on me. Hopefully their sun will at least make sure that I'm tanned enough to not disappoint everyone when I come home to Norway - somehow people don't expect you to look pale after a year in Egypt.

A lengthy conversation with a British couple in Dahab made me really realise how much we've learnt during our time in Egypt, how much we've gotten used to and now see as perfectly natural, how different Egypt seems to us now than to someone who has arrived directly from Europe.

The following weekend in Cairo was a welcome opportunity to say goodbye to some very good friends, who for me constitute many of the things I will dearly miss about Egypt: the unexpected friendships with people very different from you, the warm hospitality, the (sometimes) easy-going socialisation, the relaxed atmosphere as you sit for hours in a café. I think Egypt has been steadily growing on me,  and in spite of the stress of life here, I am sure I will mainly be left with fond memories of the country. Now it's time to leave, however, something I really feel now that I'm back in Alexandria.  My only mission here now is to pack up and say goodbye to the rest of my friends, before heading for Norway after a short stop in London.  It feels weird to be leaving this place, as after all the travelling, I have noticed how going back to Alex feels so much like going home.

It's sad to leave, but I guess it's better that way, as it means I've had a good time. Right now I wish I could stay a bit longer, but maybe there is never a right time to leave. And I'm also missing London and Norway and my friends and family there and really wish to be back there and see them all again - I just wish I didn't have to leave Egypt in order for this wish to be fulfilled.

To everyone who made my year in Egypt so awesome: I am very grateful, I will never forget it and I will never forget you. And hey, I'll be back! You better watch out for me!

Linda in front of our hotel pool in Sharm

Arendse and Linda

Enjoying the beach life in Sharm

Arendse and Linda in Dahab

Arendse, me and Linda in front of our hotel pool in Dahab

Linda in Dahab

The road from Dahab to Sharm - it was a mountainous area Moses was roaming around in

Tanta

Today we went on a day trip to Tanta, the biggest city in the Nile Delta, situated about half-way between Alex and Cairo. Even though it is quite a big city, about the size of Oslo, it was a lot more laid-back and slow-paced than the two aforementioned cities, and had a slightly rural feel to it. Even though this is not a place often frequented by foreigners, people were in general nicer and less bothersome than in Alex.We could walk along quite undisturbed, and when the wind carried Eman's train ticket away, a man casually jumped down on the tracks to get it for her, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Apart from walking around a bit and having a look in some shops, the only thing we really did was visiting the Sufi Mosque of al-Sayyed Ahmed al-Badawi. We tried to visit a church and a market as well, but it seems we had come at an unfortunate time, as neither appeared to be open.

The mosque was a big, beautiful and - to us - strange place. It contains the shrine of al-Badawi, a Moroccan from the 1200's who founded a Sufi order and fought crusaders, until he died in Tanta. From time to time the shrill sound of ululation (as the name suggests, an "ululululu"-sound) would pierce the silence, as eager devotees were circling and kissing the shrine. Quite a few couples were seated around the shrine, some of them seemingly on a date in the mosque. A woman was handing out sweets to everyone, until she suddenly had to step in to expel the demons from another woman who was having an uncontrollable laughing fit, or at least that's how I interpreted the situation. The latter was laughing like a maniac and looked like she might fall over any second, whereas the former was repeatedly pushing her shoulders and uttering "Allah", before escorting her out of the mosque. Our mosque visit was quite different from and a bit more eventful than those I've undertaken before.

It is a cruel paradox that it is so difficult to find a restaurant in a city so full of sweets. We left Tanta hungry but otherwise happy. 

The Mosque of al-Sayyed Ahmed al-Badawi

The mosque's interior

The mihrab (prayer niche) next to al-Badawi's shrine

The shrine of al-Badawi

The world's oldest monasteries

So what's more fitting to do during Coptic Easter than visiting some Coptic monasteries? And not just any monasteries, in fact, but the oldest Christian monasteries in the world?

The Coptic saint St. Paul is considered the first Christian hermit, seeking solitude and refuge from Roman persecution in the Eastern Desert of Egypt in the 200's. A century or two afterwards a monastery was built on the site of the cave that served as his home. In the same area at roughly the same time St. Anthony came to live as a hermit as well. He really just wanted to escape the world and focus on his relationship with God, but other devoted Christians clearly didn't quite understand this concept as they started coming to live as hermits with him. What idiots. But out of this paradox Christian monasticism was eventually born, when his followers started to form a more organised community. For this reason St. Anthony is often called the Father of Monasticism. The actual monastery was built in the 300's, and is therefore the oldest Christian monastery in the world. These were the places I visited last weekend! Beat that!

St. Anthony's Monastery is quite a big monastery situated right below some hills in an oasis in the desert. The setting is beautiful and the contrast between the arid desert landscape and the lush area of the monastery is breathtaking. Circled by eagles, it looks quite majestic. It is an extremely tranquil place - but I guess that is kinda the point. It seems it was extra peaceful the day we visited, however, as they don't normally recieve visitors on Easter Sunday, but an exception was made for us as our driver knew one of the monks. Apparently there will often be hundreds if not thousands of pilgrims visiting the monastery each day, which must be a bit overwhelming, but as there were only two other visitors there at the same time as us, we didn't really have to fight for space. We were shown around by a very friendly monk, who showed us the small fort where the monks used to retreat during Bedouin raids and gave us a tour of the monastery's old mill, it's miraculous spring, the refectory - which he described as having a "natural sound system"-, and two of the monastery's churches. One is a medieval church from the 12th century, with the very unexpected name Church of St. Anthony. It contains some unusually well-conserved, beautiful frescos, some of them even older than the church itself. It is a stunning little church, and our visit there was probably my favourite part of the whole trip. The burial place of St. Anthony is supposed to be a well-kept secret, as he didn't want to be glorified after his death, so of course the church claims to contain his tomb, which is - again of course - honoured reverently.

The Church of St. Anthony is connected to the newer Church of the Apostles. In the passage between them you can behold the relics of St. Justus, a very holy monk whose religious genius partly consisted of constantly asking about the time. Inside of the Church of the Apostles there are more relics - miraculous ones at that - and if your eyes are good you can also admire a minuscule splinter of the cross. We were all quite surprised when the monk started removing the carpet and a glass floor emerged - apparently this church is built on top of ruins of the ancient monastery, and through the glass floor we could see what used to be the monks' cells. Pretty awesome!

Some of the details in the churches seemed quite Ottoman, and this mixing of styles I found very fascinating. The monastery really had a special atmosphere, and I left with that serene, humbled feeling only religious places instill in me. It lived up to my expectations of the calm and peace and quiet a monastery should contain, even though the illusion was slightly ruined by monks chatting away on fancy phones - but I guess time doesn't stand entirely still here either. In a way it was nice seeing that the monks on the whole are normal human beings just like us, and we really appreciated their friendliness.

St. Anthony's Monastery

Not-quite-as-saintly Anthony entering St. Anthony's Monastery

Me in front of the monks' cells at St. Anthony's

St. Anthony, I presume

Salma outside a church in the monastery

The monastery's medieval church, Church of St. Anthony

Some of the beautiful frescos

Jesus and the apostles: the oldest painting in the monastery, dating from the 600's

The unusual theme of this painting is Virgin Mary nursing baby Jesus. This theme was sometimes used to emphasise that even though Jesus was divine, his body was thoroughly human.

Candles by the entrance to St. Anthony's tomb

The relics of St. Justus

Me in Church of the Apostles

Us in the refectory

The monastery's garden

Posing with our monk in front of the monastery

Afterwards we made our way to St. Paul's Monastery, which appeared to be smaller, even though both monasteries house about 120 monks. It is situated a bit higher up, and gave a less polished impression - it clearly seemed to recieve fewer visitors than St. Anthony's. Also here we saw a miraculous spring  - this time the one that sustained St. Paul. The main attraction of the monastery is Church of St. Paul, which contains the relics of the saint kept in the cave where he lived. We were taken care of by a lovely monk, who had never shown tourists around before and was therefore slightly worried he might not meet the standard required of a tour guide, but we could assure him that the tour he gave us was most enjoyable.

Afterwards we made our way up to a cluster of houses with crosses on their roofs a bit further up in the mountains. Apparently this had originally been the dwelling place of one monk, but it seemed others had joined him later. It looked very beautiful from below, but it turned out to be a quite disappointing place filled with kitschy religious paintings, weird Christmas displays and badly kept animals. Rather absurd.

Church of St. Paul

Inside the church. The ostrich eggs symbolise resurrection

The cave of St. Paul with his relics

Some rather luxurious dwellings belonging to the more important religious leaders, if I understood correctly

The houses further up

Religious kitsch

I think I watched the sun set five times on the way home. A funny effect of driving alongside a mountain range with peaks of various heights.

Of course, no desert trip is complete without dolphin watching. The road to the monasteries passes Ain Sukhna, a popular beach get-away for people from Cairo, and while we were driving along the coast in that area we suddenly saw four dolphins playing around. Maybe it was the fact that they were so close to the shore, or the fact that they looked almost too perfect, but I was sitting there staring at them for a long time before it dawned on me and I uttered the brilliant remark: "Are those actual dolphins?"

Mamma

08.05.1945 Norway was liberated from Nazi rule after five years of occupation. To celebrate this, the Norwegian flag is flown on this day.

08.05.1963 Julie Heiberg Danbolt Ajer, my mum, was born. When she was little, she thought all the flags were for her.

Today would have been her 50th birthday. If she had reached 50, she would have seen my older brother about to finish his bachelor's degree. She would have seen me finishing high school (equivalent to UK A-levels) and seen me well into my bachelor's degree. She would have seen my younger brother finishing secondary school and high school and starting studying law. She would have seen my sister finishing primary and secondary school and starting high school. She would have seen us all grow up so much. I think I am still overall the same person, but I have also changed quite a bit over the past few years. I hope you'd be proud of me, mum.

You're my ideal for what a good person should be like, and even though I often fail at being as kind and selfless as you, you're the ideal I strive to reach. It's hard without you, and I sometimes feel quite lost, but together with my dad you managed to instill many good values in us while you were alive, you had time to teach us so many things and shape us as persons. I wish we could have had you around so much longer, but you've ensured that no matter what, we'll manage.

I wish you were here. I wish we were celebrating together today.  But we'll manage. We'll always manage. My only hope is that they're throwing you a really good party in heaven. Because you deserve it.

I hope you know how much we love you.

The Black and White Desert

Last weekend was seriously one of the best ones I've had in Egypt. We went to Cairo and from there on to the Baharriyah Oasis the next morning. Baharriyah is situated in the Western Desert 4-5 hours south of Cairo, close to the desert areas known as the Black and White Desert. We were a group of 12 people who set off, mostly people from ACL but also a few of our friends from Cairo. We had private transport, so we could be as rowdy and sing as silly songs as we liked without disturbing anyone except the poor bus driver. It was great fun travelling in such a big group. We didn't spend any time in Baharriyah itself, but went straight out into the desert.

Most of the time was actually spent driving around the desert, stopping different places of interest. The White Desert was beautiful, even though the sand wasn't white as I expected - the name is due to the soft white chalk dotted around the desert. The wind has shaped the stone into strange formations which are the main attraction of the area. There was so much to look at just from the car windows, and whenever we got out we made sure to make the most of it, making sand angels which the wind instantly destroyed, running barefoot and rolling around in the soft warm sand. It's a good thing we're all such mature people. In the White Desert we also visited a rock made entirely of quartz called Crystal Mountain - it was also pretty cool.

Just as the sand in the White Desert is not really white, the sand in the Black Desert is not really black. Black powder eroded from the volcanic mountains is mixed in with the orange sand, making it look quite different from any other desert landscape I've seen. We went there the next morning, and a few of us decided that the best thing to do in the scorching desert heat was of course to climb some of these mountains. I would like to point out in all modesty that I was the first to reach the peak!

But of course the most important thing was the night in between. We camped out in the White Desert, and it was an amazing experience. The company and the atmosphere was good, the food was good, sitting around the campfire was great. There is something so extremely peaceful and calming about the desert. It was the perfect escape after a stressful week. Just our group, alone, far out in the desert, in the weird flat moonlandscape with rock formations scattered around. It was very different from the classic rolling desert landscape of Siwa, for instance. I've never seen anything like it. Small, white foxes with huge ears were our only company. We saw the sunset and the moonrise and the sunrise. The moonrise was especially stunning: suddenly this huge red moon was rising from the horizon. It was almost a full moon, so even in the middle of the night with no other source of light we had no problem seeing: the white landscape was bathed in the cool light from the moon. It was the perfect setting for silent contemplation. We slept under the stars, which where brighter than any of us had seen in a while despite the strong light from the moon.

It's hard to explain exactly what made the trip so great. Maybe the combination of rowdiness and contemplation, of unity and loneliness. Maybe getting out of the huge cities and feeling incredibly small in the face of majestic nature. Maybe seeing the moonrise and the sunrise for the first time I can remember. Or maybe just the good company. Either way, the calm and contentment I felt out in the desert is with me still, even now when I'm back in Alex. Something slowly dawned on me during the trip. In spite of the stress of essays to finalise and exams coming up, in spite of being extremely tired and having a cold that never goes away, in spite of the daily trials of life here: I am happy now. Lately I've been feeling content here in Egypt. There's simply no other place I'd rather be right now.

And hey, you know it's been a good trip when people already start talking about arranging a new one on the way home.

Shahmaan on Crystal Mountain

Chilling on a stone mushroom in the White Desert

Me, Lara and Shahmaan

Me and Eman

Look! Trees in the desert!

Nazmul, Negla, Marwan, Fawzy and Shahmaan in the White Desert

The sun setting on Eman

Where we pitched camp

The Black Desert

Marwan setting off on an expedition

Fawzy and Shahmaan lagging behind. Do you hear that, Fawzy el-kaslan?

Shahmaan, me and Marwan climbing a hill in the Black Desert

We reached the peak!

Baharriyah

I have saved the best for last. This last picture I will forever think of when I think of the White Desert.

Oh, so you thought the post was finished? Well, it's a bit too short, isn't it, and I don't write short posts! We stayed another night in Cairo after we returned from the desert, and went to visit some friends of Lara, Nosheen and Hamida. They took us on a felucca on the Nile, not a tacky one this time, and it was so beautiful and relaxing to see a bit of the city by river. I will leave you with some pictures of that, the one of me is the credit of my new-won friend Ahmed.

Lara, Ahmed, Sara, Abdelmonem, Nosheen, me and Walaa on the Nile

Cairo from the Nile