The problem is that two of my roommates are moving out in the next few weeks, bringing our foursome down to a lonely pair. May 31st, we'll pack our bags, too, and say our goodbyes to 6A el-Diwan.
Gummy bears aren't much of a consolation. Actually, my comfort food of choice lately has been beets, which I've been boiling and combining with every imaginable food group. That is, until my pee started turning pink. I thought I'd better lay off for a while, and turn my attention instead to gelatinous, sugary grub.
I've been back in Cairo for four days now--not very long, but long enough to settle back in to the familiar rhythm of life here, smelling the sweet clouds of sheesha smoke, relaxing to the dull roar of traffic like the sound of a distant seashore, taking in the broad expanse of the Nile as I cross the bridge at sunset. This is where I've staked my life for the past year, for better or for worse. For better, I'd say.
But now that plans have been set for the fall, now that my roommates can start giddily anticipating Mexican food and driving and a good white russian and all the other benefits of an American existence--I find myself increasingly restless to still be here. I'm eager for a humid 4th of July, with bumble bees and lightning bugs and bbq sauce (which, as I found out this morning, my host family decidedly does not like. My host mother forced herself to keep eating a bottle of imported bbq sauce (a gift), though, reminding us that we should be thankful for all food that comes from God. Even if it's icky, strange American sauce that's ruining her perfectly good chicken).
But no, as my Arabic textbook at the foot of my bed reminds me, there is work still to be done--good work still to be done. But ah, I'd give a lot to be able to pack my suitcases this week, slip away quietly, and hear the British Air flight attendants welcome me to Chicago. Two more months, two more months...
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