Well, Merry Christmas to her…and every other Kiwi in the area…because Christmas (even though it didn’t feel Christmasy at all for me)…sported a cloudless sky and virtually no wind.

That short interaction dovetailed with a theory I had been processing since Thursday.

“Merry Eve of Christmas Eve,” one of the DJ’s on the radio crooned. The other answered “Yeah, and today it’s even starting to feel like Christmas.” in much the same way that I stare at a cloud-laden sky, smell snow on the breeze, feel the chill on my cheeks and declare the same thing.

We all wish for something…some dream setting that serves as the backdrop for our ideal Christmas. In New Mexico, and many places in the Northern Hemisphere, we dream of a white Christmas. Pretty self-explanatory. Christmas songs and cards all over the world back it up.

Here, though marketing isn’t as strong, the sentiment definitely is. Kiwi’s dream of the perfect summer day filled with sun, sand and water-play. Barbeque, cold drinks and family picnics. Flip flips, tank tops and bikinis.

That’s Christmas. Wild, huh?

Worlds apart. Ideas apart. But sharing the same dream…of a perfect Christmas setting.

When you wake up to the moon hovering over a green hillside, eat only muffin tops for breakfast, board a boat with 20 other festive people and have a pod of dolphins escort you out to the great beyond, well, you can assume it’s going to be an awesome day!

And so it has been this blessed Christmas Eve.

We are in the Marlborough Sounds enjoying our Christmas present to each other.

About an hour after we left the dolphins, still cavorting in our wake, we stepped onto the long jetty at Ship Cove, almost a year from our last visit. A whole year of experience separated us from that day, making everything look different. The 71 Km marker at the head of the trail wasn’t so daunting…but the comically steep hill just beyond it certainly was. Curiosity and a genuine desire to put off climbing that hill, had us walking in the opposite direction. Toward a nearby waterfall. It was a magnificent combination of waterslide-like channels gouged into solid rock and a “fall” part that didn’t look so fun in the context of the waterslide theme.

Even though we snapped pictures from every angle, there still came a time when we had to face the hill that marked the start of the Queen Charlotte Track. This time, we attacked that hill as we did the rest of the track, with knowledge and confidence. We are definitely physically stronger than last year…and have the knowledge of experience. Helpful knowledge – like the fact that there are three signs along the way, each about 45 minutes brisk walk apart that point backwards and state “Ship Cove – 2 hours”. Yep. Three of them. All claiming the same amount of time even though you’ve walked almost that in between. Kiwi humor? Or just a different concept of time?

Like the Kiwi concept of flat. Last year we had a description of each section of the trail. They listed the last section of the trail as flat. But flat doesn’t mean flat as in Albuquerque flat. It just means not steep. In the same way that manana doesn’t mean tomorrow…just not today. This year, we knew that along the Queen Charlotte Track we would be either going up or down almost all of the time.

So some things didn’t change.

And then some things did. Like the track itself. Even though we had walked it before, it was wildly new and exciting. Take the weather. We watched four seasons blow across the land throwing many different moods across the face of the landscape. We also witnessed the effects of many prior days of harsh and uncharacteristic weather. Landslides left gouges in the dense forest. Foliage debris littered the trail.

We also arrived at the start of our track nearly 2 hours earlier and with no deadline at the other end, save the setting sun. Last year, with four hours to complete a documented five hour track, our trek was a mixture of awe and terror. This year we left terror behind and revelled in awe.

By far the coolest part was the perfect chalet that awaited us on the other end. Two inviting sun-drenched chairs called to us from the deck where we watched other hikers do what we did last year…hail a boat for Picton. This year, we would stay for another two days.

Our day ended as it had begun, with dolphins. Doug and I had wandered down to the shore to cool our feet in the water when a pod of our slippery friends swam by, jumping and frolicking like they probably had been all day.

But I wonder…. I run to the water’s edge and wonder. I sit on the hill overlooking Sumner and wonder. I climb Cave Rock and wonder.

But I’ve never been brave enough to go against the signs and test my theory. It’s kinda like going against your mom…or your older sister…failure doesn’t just mean you’ve failed. It also means you’ve set yourself up for “I told you so…” And here, well, it sets you up for “Another stupid American…”

But then somedays….it’s all just worth the risk…

Despite the weather forecast for rain, today, the sun sparkled off the waves at our beach. (Makes up for the many times they promise sunshine and we get rain.) By the time Doug and I made it to Shag Rock and back during our morning run, the beach was full of families, groups, and throngs. Because we just can’t be left out, we came home, changed into suitable beach attire and went to join them.

By the time we’d finished our little picnic, the sun had baked me through…this is me…who swears she’s never been warm in New Zealand. Well. I can no longer proclaim that. (As we are a whole 5 days into summer…well, I’m looking forward to a summer of eating my wintry words!)

I really thought I was going to have to go for a swim to lower my body temperature to a normal range, but a few steps into the surf…and two lively, splashing tween-aged kids later…and I was back to my normal state of cold.

As we walked with the water lapping at our legs, I heard a sound you don’t often hear around Sumner. Jet skis. Stand up jet skis, no less…which are my favorite….but are even more of a rarity these days. Of course, our feet automatically headed in that direction and in no time we were standing on the shore with the family who owned them.

Funny thing about stand up jet skis. If you own one, you own two, as they are cantankerous little beasts, so one will always be sitting on the shore. True to form, one of theirs had a huddle of guys around it while one lucky dude played in the surf on the other one.

Despite that, Doug’s feet had barely stopped before the girl looked up at him and said, “You look like a man who would like to have a go.”

Can’t turn that down.

So he did. And so did I, despite the fact that I wasn’t really wearing a swim suit. But a pair of shorts and a jog bra does just fine when you’re faced with an opportunity. I hadn’t ridden in years and was having the greatest time…just about brave enough to stand up when my beautiful chariot died on me and refused to start. I coaxed and cajoled and inched my way toward shore. Having a bit of experience with the cranky nature of two stroke engines, I was convinced I could get it going….it was all a matter of touch. But she just didn’t like my touch.

Anyway, as shore neared, Doug and the girl who offered us a ride swam out to help me push it in.

That’s where my ride ended, but the answer to my New Zealand-long question began.

Doug said something about having just swam half-way across to New Brighton. I said I’d always wanted to try. The girl said she knew she could do it. And in a few minutes Doug and had pinpointed our trajectory and were cutting through the waves. Interestingly, swimming in the ocean is nothing like swimming in the pool. We’re strong swimmers, but battling current and freezing cold and waves that try to capsize or just fill your mouth present a whole new set of challenges. And then there’s the seaweed. About half-way across, as something slithered past my ankle, I remembered my fear of all things oceanic (aside from water and sand). But fear makes you have super-human strength. Consequently, my feet hit sand quite a bit before Doug.

Shaking with cold, thrumming with victory and panting like I’d swum the English Channel, I turned to Doug and shouted “We did it!” Only then did I catch sight of Shag Rock and something clicked into place. Unlike if we’d swum the English Channel, now we had to swim back.

Well, once your mind decides you’ve done something stupid, it’s really hard to convince it otherwise. And feeling stupid is no way to attack a challenge. So we trotted up to the hot sand and flopped our exhausted bodies onto it’s warmth. Sometime after Doug had buried my exposed limbs in the stinging heat of the sand, it occurred to me that the tide was coming in. That meant that every second I laid in the cocoon of warmth, the channel got wider…and the water didn’t get any warmer.

After exhausting all other possibilities…the bus, without a wallet…walking, wet and cold…hailing the surf club, humiliating…..we hit the water once again. I’d like to say that the swim back was just as fun…but it would be a lie. I swam the first half on my back which kept the amount of ingested sea water to a minimum and proved heartening to watch the shore grow further away. And if that wasn’t enough motivation, looking up to see two little sailboats heading straight for me helped me pick up the pace. Not only did the teens on board NOT hit me, but they offered assistance, which I smilingly declined. Sometimes pride hinders intelligence.

As we do with most things, Doug and I took a different approach to this return swim. Doug headed straight for Cave Rock…at a sweeping angle from Shag Rock to counter balance the current. I started to follow him, but the “shortest distance between two points” concept took hold and I headed straight for Shag Rock. Consequently, he hit sand bars and I hit rocks. Never was I more excited to grab hold of rocks, so I didn’t really care that they tore a bit of skin in the process. After a rest atop a jagged rock, I did follow Doug to shore.

So, now, everyday when Shag Rock looms out of the distance to greet me on my morning run I will greet it with a brand new perspective…YES!

As a general overview:

• I can say that, like most worries, ours were unfounded.
• I encountered only one hole-in-the-ground toilet and not one person waiting to sell me toilet paper (though if it hadn’t been for my handy packs of kleenex, I would have gladly paid for some on several occasions).
• Hair color wasn’t ever an issue, though I was told several times by people in our group that mine stopped traffic, so was handy when crossing streets. Which crossing streets is…well, just something you have to experience to believe.
• Travel was a well-orchestrated dance, complete with baggage arriving intact, planes landing in one piece and great people to sit with.
• I did manage to command a whole five words of arabic and utilized a bevy of hand-gestures to achieve some level of communication…albeit a bit cave-man-like!
• By far the best piece of advice I ran across before we left (besides handy packs of kleenex), was to take my big scarf I bought in Mexico. Just like the article said, I wore it as a long skirt, a shorter skirt, and a shawl, carried it just in case I needed to cover my head and could have worn it to the beach…but…well, that’s a whole different story.
• Although tours are the best way to see lots of stuff in a small amount of time….that’s precisely their downside, too.
• The one thing I could have left home was the pile of tank-tops I toted, yet never wore.
• The one thing I could have left in Egypt was me…to soak in more rays of sunshine, breathe in the desert air and really feel the history oozing from every space and crack in the Egyptian landscape.

And Lastly…

• Although we shopped incessantly for the “perfect” souvenirs (which all look cheesy crammed alongside a zillion other metal camels and glass pyramids…but all look great staring at you from your shelf at home), the best things we brought home were friendships, pictures and memories.

So, what follows is a travel-log of sorts, with  a few journal entries written in the moment to add that splash of real-time Egypt. It’s posted in chronological order, as I am a traditional pen-and-paper girl even though I lovingly lay these words into the giant, invisible hands of cyberspace.

We’ve flown over a day (28-odd hours) and into tomorrow morning. Well, my worst fears did not materialize. Paperwork and immigration flowed smooth as silk. Although our bags were last off the plane causing a minor bout of heart-failure…followed by a wave of elation. We’re here!

We did not arrive in Cairo Airport Terminal 3…the newest and best terminal with glowing internet reports. Instead we arrived into T2 (which got about the same reviews as the movie).  But just like movie reviews, internet reviews were a bit harsh. In our view, T2 was clean, organized and easy. Maybe that’s because I regularly fly in and out of LAX. Although, LAX does not have military men packin semi-automatic weapons…a sight that inspires diversity as they can protect you…or kill you with the flick of a wrist.

The best part by far was hearing our names called out over the murmurs of the crowd as we emerged into the lobby…into real-world Egypt. After all my nightmares of arriving in a foreign land, not knowing the language or a single person…there was Stephanie to douse them all with the effectiveness of a fire-hose.  There’s nothing like being met by a friendly…if not familiar…face when just walking off the plane annihilated your comfort-zone.

(Stephanie is the girl I talked of in the Sept 13 blog “Countdown to Egypt”…who seems at home wherever she is. She’s all that and more!)

So, Stephanie arrived in the hotel shuttle, gathered up us and our bags and ushered us into the exciting, chaotic world of Cairo. Following a routine, but awe-inspiring trip to Stephanie’s hotel, we spent an afternoon of perfect bliss by the pool. A short swim, a long, hot shower and a chance to get to know a new friend through great conversation. Doug was itching to get out and see Cairo. I was in Paradise. In a few short hours, Doug would get his way.

Our Cairo contact, in the form of a big, teddy bear of a doctor met us at the hotel in late afternoon, we made one more trip to the airport to gather another member of the mission and then enjoyed a long, eye-opening drive through Cairo. We dined on a floating restaurant on Nile at sunset. Sit with that picture for a minute. Yeah, it was as blissful as it sounds. So blissful, in fact, that I kept falling asleep at the table as jet lag took its toll.

Cairo is just like you’d expect it to be. Big. Noisy. Buzzing with activity and looking completely foreign. No doubt you are in another country. The buildings all looked the same to me; tall, brown, non-descript, derelict even…with tops crumbling and windows missing…but then you see the crowd of satellite dishes on top and even a garden or two…and a line of laundry blowing in the breeze. The first thing you have to notice, aside from the massive buildings, is the traffic. Not only is there a ton of it, but watching it is like watching a comedy show and driving in it is like driving in a hurricane…complete with the noise and things flying at you from all directions. Yes, they drive on the right side of the road, but that’s the only thing that resembles driving. The rest is a combination of horn honking, breaking and swerving to dodge bullets. The lines mean nothing. On first glance it appears they use them like pilots…run right down the center…on second glance you realize they’re just decoration. At the same time, on our trip to the Nile, I looked over at the driver next to us with about 4 inches clearance between our cars and she looked completely relaxed, arm draped over the wheel like she was the only car on a lonely stretch of Arizona highway.  Luckily, no one will be asking me to drive in this foreign land.

The never-ending day

“Today, Sunday started at midnight, as it does, and was just a continuation of the long day that started with our Friday afternoon flight out of Christchurch.  Making our third trip to the Cairo airport within hours, we’re picking up the rest of our crew just arriving from the US. I’m feeling sort of smug. We’ve had a grand adventure in Cairo and are even getting a feel for the airport which will be helpful upon our return, yet watching our soon-to-be friends coming off the plane I recognize myself in their eyes just a few hours ago. Wide, curious and not a little exhausted.”

We boarded a bus and drove through Cairo. It was 2 in the morning and all the downtown cafes and markets were packed like it was Sunday afternoon. Lights abound, even mosques have neon highlights, and the atmosphere is festive. I had heard of the nightlife here, but you have to see it to believe it. I used to laugh when I’d shop at Walmart in the middle of the night and it was packed. Well, WallyWorld has nothing on Cairo!

Soon, we left the city lights behind and drove into the desert. When I opened my eyes, dawn was stretching over Alexandria. I remember thinking “This is home for the next week.” The Mediterranean Sea swept the shores to our left with a sidewalk, wide and inviting that seemed to stretch the length of the city. Tall buildings, it seemed nothing under 15 stories, butted up against each other, towered over the street to the right. We pulled up at Mercure Romance Hotel Alexandria just in time for breakfast. What a spread! There’s nothing like a buffet in another country. New foods, swirling colors, mingling smells. Most of the time I spent running around checking out every detail laid before us. And the other part…gobbling down a taste of everything laid before us.

Our room was an equal delight. You know, when you sign up to do a humanitarian mission, you kinda expect…well, I guess I didn’t expect to be treated like a queen. But there we were, with giant windows overlooking the vast blue sea, a tiled bathroom and curiously twin beds. But this was our temporary room, we were told. I didn’t want to move, for fear of losing my incredible sea view. Little did I know, our next view would be even better!

As instructed, we didn’t let the beds lure us into a nap and were in the hotel lobby and ready to go at 8am.  Of course, now we were on Egypt time, so we had a bit of a wait before boarding the bus and heading to our reception at the hospital. Although it seemed surreal that it could be full light so soon, we were happy to have the sunshine to light up every corner of this wild, new city. Smaller than Cairo by lots, Alexandria was still a maze of streets packed with humanity.

Despite our best efforts, jet lag was in full command even as we watched them roll out the red carpet (literally) and sweep it off (we would learn that everything in Egypt has a coating of dust) just before inviting us to enter the medical school lobby. The short opening ceremony of welcome with the deans of the college would prove one of the great challenges of the day. Staying awake, that is, while sitting in comfy chairs…listening.

But not long after, I would be headed out on my first Alexandria adventure. Leaving Doug behind to make small-talk at the “Meet and Greet” with the hospital staff…Drs, Nurses and such, I followed a small pack of women out into the “real world”. A set of large iron gates, complete with uniformed guards defined the line. Screeching tires. Honking horns. Packs of chattering people crammed on the sidewalks, spilled into the streets. We walked fast, snapped pictures faster, testament to the pace of the city. Architecture clashed. Tall, nondescript, derelict-looking buildings next to tall, ornate, stately structures, next to towering, modern glass, glinting in the ever-present sunshine. A single Roman column surrounded by roses and a guard. A large construction site.

We stopped at a convenience store…a sight that would be come familiar…a small door you had to stoop to get through led to a closet-sized room packed with…well, convenience. Familiar brands…Coke…Cadbury…and not-so-familiar brands, written in Arabic. And stopped at a street vendor, which looked about the same, but  packed with pastries. Two men cooked a crepe-looking thing on a stove in the middle of the sidewalk. It smelled divine, and tasted even better dusted with powdered sugar. Our first taste of Alexandria was a sweet one indeed.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of tour guides, bus rides and food. The Alexandria Library…well, you just have to go online to check it out. Zillions of words and all those pictures can’t emulate the feel of history meeting technology and melding with knowledge. We zoomed through three of four museums and got a quick overview of the library’s eleven stories housing millions of books. We missed the planetarium, but I think it would have looked like 50 grown people snoring in a small, dark, round room. Because I didn’t jot down the day’s remaining schedule in an effort to keep my eyelids from clamping permanently over my eyes during the opening ceremony, I really don’t have a firm grasp on what the rest of the day held, so we’ll end there.

10 am

“We start our missions today. I am both excited and terrified. I am out of my element in so many ways. Doug left two hours ago, so I have had time to relax, organize and do a bit of yoga. Although it looks perfectly safe, I’m leery of going out to run on the esplanade by myself…and know that there aren’t any runners in our group I could keep up with. No one is 65 years old and pulls an oxygen tank. Yesterday was a fabulous introduction to Egypt – the part without the pyramids. It’s funny. Just like when you mention the USA and people automatically think New York or Hollywood or Disneyland. You mention Egypt and everyone’s mind flashes to the pyramids. But Egypt is sooo much more than that! If you take away the people, yeah, maybe we are just monuments. Yesterday evening Stephanie, Doug and I walked the esplanade, the long stretch of sidewalk that separates the sea from the street. “Wow, you’re on the Mediterranean Sea,” I kept reminding myself. It’s the romantic destination of the century…of a lifetime, maybe. Our hotel is even called Mercure Romance Alexandria. Somehow…I can’t get to the heart of the “romance” part. Alexandria is just another fascinating place where people are un-fascinatingly going about their daily lives….and that’s what I find so fascinating!”

5pm

“I met a girl today. I got to sit by her on the bus. Her name was Sara and she was my little slice of Egypt, so I took the opportunity to pepper her with questions. She had joined several other medical students who had come to translate for us. She and her extended family lived in a suburb of Alexandria called Miami…small world, huh?…on the 6th floor of a 7 story building with no elevator. ‘That’s why I’m so skinny,’ she told me She spoke fluent Arabic and French and said her English needed work…but it was heaps better than my Arabic and French combined. In Egypt, those who can afford it send their kids to French-run schools. They are very prevalent. One of the coolest things she told me was that people in Alexandria drive very carefully because it’s expensive to have bodywork done in the event of a wreck. Wow, does that typify the different perspectives? What I perceive as utter chaos, is in reality a well-orchestrated dance.

Today was nothing like I envisioned. Okay, I have to admit, I came here to ‘save the world’. I was primed for some saving today. But what I got was an incredible opportunity to hone my skills in ‘going with the flow’.  Transport was interesting. At least an hour late, our bus drove in circles through the labyrinth of ever-narrowing streets steeped in the zoo of traffic. We waited lots, took lots of pictures and spent lots of time on the bus. We also realized that we have “protection” everywhere we go. Our suited escort was packing a small machine gun and would stop traffic for us to walk across streets. And then, instead of us helping Egypt,  they entertained us. We received red-carpet treatment at two charitable facilities including grand tours, sodas and cookies and then our coordinator took us out to lunch! I didn’t feel very helpful, but oh my, the food was incredible. Falafel, tahini, pita, fava beans. I could live on Egyptian food forever. But I’d be a bit more hefty, seeing as they are calling us to dinner as I jot this last line.”

Late…very late…

“Well, they had a special seafood buffet for us tonight. Luckily, I was stuffed, as I’m not a huge fan of fish…especially ones still sporting their eyes and tails. However, I did have a significant amount of room for this ice cream cakey thing with raspberry coulis. The ice cream was naked…no vanilla or other flavor…just pure cream…and pure Heaven!

After that we ran a 3-ring circus. A trip downtown involving 13 people, three taxis, several miscommunications and a gigantic language barrier. We drove through this shopping area on the way to our lunch restaurant and, during the day, I thought it looked like San Francisco China Town with a bunch of cheesy imported stuff cleverly displayed in the plate-glass windows lining both sides of the street. Well, at night it wasn’t much different, except for the spectacular array of lights, the throng of people and lots more atmosphere. Traffic is even more wild and chaotic at night, so just getting there was an adventure. We piled out of our cars like clowns at a circus and stood on the sidewalk like teenagers…gawking, clicking pictures, and texting….and waiting for our third car that never showed up.

Eventually we dispersed into manageable-sized groups and ours happened to have an Arabic translator…one of the recently-graduated pediatricians. She toured, explained and introduced us to great things like sugar-cane juice. In the end, we met up with our missing car-load of people, weren’t tempted to buy anything, but thoroughly enjoyed being a part of the night-life.”

“Today we left Alexandria stretched behind us like a jagged line of sandstone, growing smaller by the minute. And we did what we came here to do. I felt so incredibly lucky to get to see a different part of Egypt. Real Egypt.”

Think I held my camera out the window the entire trip taking blurry pix as the new and exciting terrain flew by. The desert, and especially the heat, made it feel like home. This particular suburb could have felt like home, too, with it’s wide streets, tree-lined medians and large stucco walls. Almost. If it weren’t for the heavy layer of dust on the paved roads…which one man was trying to sweep clear as we passed…that’s job security! And the houses were an array of posh mansions and three and four story dwellings that looked like they’d been nice…but had that ravaged post-war look. I found out later that many of the houses were new, just finished to the point they needed to be which sometimes didn’t include windows or pretty painted stucco. Owners used their money where it mattered to the family. Inside space.

It was a trip to drive up to two-story iron gates, have them open, drive through into a compound and have them close behind you. It was something we’d get used to over the next few days. I never did figure out why everything had such high walls and giant gates…security? Privacy? Routine?

We didn’t have our translators, as we were headed to a church daycare for a social visit only. To play with the kids, give them gobs of donated stuff and let them entertain us with song. I learned to make bracelets with embroidery floss and even taught some kids to do the same. I watched the beads we brought disappear like candy and reappear in all sorts of jewelry on every arm, neck and wrist in the place. I colored alongside bunches of squirming pre-schoolers and played and watched all sorts of games happen. All the while, we talked. A few words, lots of hand signals and tons of smiles. We waved them off in their buses and climbed into ours, satisfied with our day’s play.

Back at the hotel, Doug and another couple in our group emerged from the elevator with a plan. They were headed to Montaza, King Farouk’s castle. He was Egypt’s last king and left from this palace and went into exile. Of course, the taxi ride was an adventure, even though it was just a couple of miles along the sea. Once we passed through the gates of the tall, white walls we were in a different land. Palm trees in rows so straight you could bowl down them, flowers and gardens. As majestic as it all was, apparently it had seen better days. The castle loomed large and ostentatious and we would have loved to go inside, but it’s now protected (machine-gun, of course) and only used for government-approved affairs. Bummer. But walking on the grounds, pink sunset creeping across the sky to the left over the water and a large moon rising to the right, we just couldn’t complain about our luck. And what could top off a trip to paradise, but a table reserved for us right on the edge of the sea with a bevy of waiters to take care of us. Food piled up and disappeared just as fast. In the US, it helps to have connections…in Egypt, its everything. On our way home, of course we had to try pastries from the street vendor and top our magical evening off with a ride in a horse-drawn carriage. You might think that the horse would have his own lane or at least stick to the very edge of the road, but this is Egypt.

10am

“I am sitting in the hotel lobby waiting. It’s part of our routine. You come at the designated time, knowing that it’s an estimate, but fearing the alternative…being left. It has happened…more than once…and almost to me. I won’t chance it. It’s funny, but kind of nerve-wracking. If we have to do anything at the last minute, pit stop, fill a water bottle, run for anything up in our room the exchange always goes like this…loud and boisterous. ‘I’m going ____. Don’t leave me!’ You tell as many people as possible to cut down on the probability of returning to an empty lobby.  But I also find that as the days pass, we get to know each other better and count heads before we let the bus take off. It’s great prep for being prepared for everything and expecting nothing. “

5pm

“Well, if I didn’t feel like I’d seen the real Egypt before, today took care of that. Today was so amazing I don’t know where to start. For the second time we drove out of town, leaving the huge Alexandria skyline to disappear in the rear-view once again. This time a remarkably modern suburb didn’t appear out of the desert, instead it was a real village with goats and geese and donkey-pulled wagons. The buildings were still very tall, but crammed close together with dirt alleys between them, not tall, stucco walls. Something we’ve come to expect are the bevy of smiling faces that greet us everywhere we go. Today our work was in a narrow building with at least three stories. We spread out on all three floors. Drs on one, pharmacy on another and the rest of us entertaining kids with a full arsenal of stuff spilling out all over. Aside from the continual parade of eager, appreciative faces, the coolest part of today happened purely by accident. A Stephanie-induced accident.

If I haven’t mentioned before, Stephanie is the kinda girl around-who things just happen. Cool things. Like today. Stephanie mentioned being hungry and suddenly we were standing in someone’s living room, taking pictures, attempting rudimentary communication, and then moving into the kitchen and watching the meal come together. Soup, falafel, flatbread of some sort, beans and cheese. Being the guests of honor, we dined on a low, round table, seated on pillows on the porch overlooking the farmland. Doesn’t get more “real” Egypt than that!

A sea of kids came and went during our stint. Some stayed the entire time…not because we were slow, but more because we were the coolest gig in town that day.”

So the rest of our week continued on track. Hurry up and wait was the name of the transportation game. Everything works on Egypt time, which really has no bearing on real-time. I am sure this impacted our coordinators much more severely than it did us. To me, it was just part of what makes Egypt real. We drove into the desert and onto the dirt, through large iron gates and into compounds filled with grass and flowers…and lots of children. Sometimes I colored or made bracelets, sitting nose to nose with kids who were as enthralled with me as I was with them. Sometimes I helped in the exam rooms, taking histories and exam notes. When the parents came with the kids, of course it made our job tons easier and a fabulous glimpse into the culture. One afternoon we had a slew of parents ask if it was okay to hit their kids or other questions regarding where the line gets drawn between discipline and child abuse. I got the feeling that it had been a cultural thing…to hit your kids…and that many parents were beginning to question it. It was really exciting to possibly be a part of changing damaging social norms.

Because Stephanie and I worked together on Thursday, we had a system. So, while everyone else ran around like mad chickens, we found a quiet corner, grabbed some chairs and set about seeing kids. It was a beautiful experience in a beautiful setting with a parade of beautiful kids. And, sadly, it would be the last time I would have that experience.

After waving goodbye to all our new friends, we were running late…very late. We buzzed by the hotel, jumped into our beach clothes and reboarded the bus in record time. Thinking I was going to the beach, I chose to wear my board shorts…and nearly got stoned by my group for indecent exposure Luckily, I had my towel to wear as a skirt!

We drove through King Farouk’s Palace compound to get to the beach. It was packed with everything from bikini-wearing tourists to burqini-wearing locals. Everyone said the water was warm…and compared to the frigid, Antarctic waters of Christchurch, it was…but it still took some getting used to…and constant swimming to keep warm. But, hey! We were swimming in the Mediterranean Sea! A bunch of us congregated on a raft moored off shore. We hung and chatted and jumped and squealed like teenagers on spring break. We watched Stephanie climb on a rocket behind some guy’s boat…with his three friends…and ride it all over the cove. Being Stephanie, she even rescued the non-swimmers when they all got dumped off. When we all swam back to shore, someone yelled “Come quick!” and we did. To the back of a yacht. Somehow, I lost everyone else and, after an accidental tour of the stateroom, ended up top while most everyone went to the bow. But, once I got a taste of the view, I couldn’t make myself join the crowd. Apparently, someone’s connection there in Egypt found out we were there on a humanitarian mission and wanted to repay us a bit with a ride on his yacht. Not that we needed repayment for a purely pleasurable trip…but you can’t turn down the chance of a lifetime! We watched our little beach fade away and the coastline spread out before us. Rocking on the open ocean, with the Alexandria skyline stretched out forever in both directions, we truly got a glimpse of the magnitude of the city we had been living in.

Saturday was a free day for some and a workday for others. I was ‘some’. Doug was ‘others’. During breakfast, with a table lined with computers…and me with my notebook propped on my knee…a shopping expedition came together. Wafa, the loveable wife of one of the doctors, was our fearless…Arabic-speaking…leader.  The market was street after narrow street of little 1/2 garages, all with roll-down metal doors and a narrow walkway to separate them.  At night, they sweep all the trash into the narrow corridors, push their wares back inside and roll down the doors. It looks like a lonely industrial section, not the bustling shopping district it is. I know this because I got to go shopping there the previous night purely by chance. There were just four of us and we closed down the shops at 11pm and then fought for a taxi home in the mayhem of the night life!  Such is the fun of travel!

Anyway, in the daylight, the bold colors and myriad textures overwhelm and delight. Fabric, beads, jewelry, nick-nacks, even a section they call China-town with all this imported stuff like you’d find in the dollar store! It’s a good thing that I loved it there, because, as fate would have it…I’d spend all day there, on and off…because I had to take Doug back later that night.

Unfortunately, our shopping expedition marked our last activity there in Alexandria, short of packing, cat-napping and boarding the bus the following morning.

Probably the coolest part of our week in Alexandria was the fact that Doug and I went our separate ways during the day and then came together at night with stories and pictures. In effect, we got to see twice as much of Alexandria through each other. His doctor took the team out twice to eat and go sightseeing. Doug got to see parts of Alex I only saw vaguely in the distance like the Citadel and an arena like the Colosseum.  One of the funniest conversations Doug had was when the Dr asked them if they’d like to go to Chili’s to eat (the US chain is alive and well in Egypt) and Doug said that he felt a bit weird going to a US restaurant when he was in a different country. He told the Dr., “I’d like to eat at a place you…a real Egyptian…like to eat.” The Dr. replied, “I’d probably eat at Chili’s.” Funny stuff. But he did take them to an authentic Egyptian restaurant where they dined on local favorites of duck and pigeon. I can’t say that I was sad to get that experience second-hand.

Somewhere along the way we ended up with some amazing members of our group at one of the poshest hotels in Alexandria, sitting on the veranda in big squishy chairs with the sea breeze playing with our hair and beautiful Egyptian music rounding out the scene. And smoking. Hookah-ing to be exact. I remember a time not too long ago when a discussion about the hookah took place on Facebook and, facing certain harassment, I had to ask what a hookah was. Well, suddenly I had one in my hand, sucking beautiful, apple-tasking smoke into my mouth and playfully exhaling like a dragon. Okay, so I wasn’t very good at it at first and would take long puffs only to come up with no smoke. I spent lots of time laughing and not so much perfecting my new skill. In Egypt they call it sheesha, but whatever it was, it was fun and a fabulous way to experience everything a country has to offer.