Fearless Travel

This was perhaps the most difficult trip I had ever made in my life. Because of the grant money I was given to study in Egypt, I could not take my family with me - worse still, my wife had dreamed of visiting Egypt her entire life! - and so we had to not talk about my departure lest emotions run high. You who have been graduate students may know the dilemma faced when one student gets just enough money to go somewhere cool and the other needs to stay home; we try to live within our means because being a graduate student is akin to being on welfare, only more work and less respect.

Anyway, my Wife, Son, and I wandered around town in the car, looking for someplace to snatch a few moments together over breakfast, but there was nowhere we could get into with a reasonable expectation that I’d be able to make my departure time with the shuttle bus that would take me to Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). The best we could do was to grab a quick breakfast from a certain fast-food “restaurant.”

But you know what? Even though it was eaten from a paper wrapper in our car, it was the best breakfast ever.

My Wife, Son and I then spent a few minutes at the beach (the one I’ve been posting pics of lately), looking at the waves crashing down on shore, and just talking.

It’s funny, I know that they love me every day of their lives, and I know that I love them every day of my life, but its not until we were faced with the prospect of my imminent departure that our emotions became so acute. My Wife drove us to the bus depot and we waited what seemed like FOREVER for the bus to untangle itself from the other gaggle of buses heading to points unknown. When I boarded the shuttle bus to LAX at 10 am it seemed like I was still at home…

Arriving at LAX, I was surprised to see the Air France terminal clogged with passengers in various states of annoyance; the flight to de Gaulle had been delayed for two hours by severe storms Normally, I would not have cared, but this situation jeopardized my connecting flight to Cairo. At first the ticket-takers were telling me that I’d have to contact Delta since I booked through them. Needless to say, I was having none of it, but through the combination of my desperate appearance, pathetic attempts at communicating my needs in French, and the fact that hundreds of other people were in the same boat, I was rebooked on a later flight out of LAX, and would ostensibly still be able to make the connecting flight since my bags would be sent directly to Cairo.I still don’t know how my baggage was able to move faster than me, but I digress.

My flight was late arriving in DeGaulle, and so the Air France crew ushered me – and only me – into a waiting Citroen and whisked me off to the other terminal where my plane to Cairo was waiting to take off. I felt like I had been smuggled through France, it was that quick. “’Urray up, ee’s mus’ be on zee plane to Cayre, tut sweet!” Like I’m james Bond or something, only not as cool.

The approach to Cairo was interesting, to say the least. As I landed, the dusk call to prayer was just sounding, so it totally added to the “Welcome to Cairo” vibe. See the picture below for a smugdy, frosted view of what I saw out the port window:

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