Final moments in Egypt.

My apologies for such a long lapse in blogging! My mac abruptly turned its face to the wall to die when I was checking my email whilst lounging at a beachside cafe on the red sea. Perhaps it felt it was as suitable a place to die as any. While frantically trying to resuscitate it, a fellow traveler--who happened to have made his life in silicone valley--glanced over at my lifeless laptop. In its death throes, my poor and mistreated mac was wheezing from the layers of dust that have slowly caked onto it over the past year in Egypt. "How old did you say that mac was?" he inquired. "Um...a little over a year..." I sheepishly admitted. His eyebrows shot through the roof. Ok, so maybe I'm not so gentle on electronics. Luckily, that apple care protection plan should get her back on her feet in no time.

For the moment, however, I'm completely dependent on my brother-in-law's ageing dell with 45 minutes max of battery life. You'll have to bear with me.

Yesterday I checked off exactly one month on the road, with exactly one week between me and O'Hare international airport. It was a strange place to find myself after so many heartfelt memories and bizarre misadventures in this colorful part of the world that has, despite so many moments of confused miscommunication and infuriating frustrations, become home.

The last month on the road has treated me well--at least, once I finally buckled down and shed some of the extra weight I had been lugging around in my backpack. To Nod, a seasoned climber who refuses to ever pack more than 25 pounds, no matter what the destination or duration of the trip, my bulging and overstuffed bags were sometimes a source of embarassment. True, I had started out with no less than two Arabic textbooks, a computer, a complete collection of all my dvds, a blowdryer, 3 sweaters (in Egypt in July), a blanket, a wooden painted bird, a large bottle of Victoria's Secret strawberry scented shampoo, two pocket dictionaries, three novels, and an assortment of what I affectionately call my "hippie shit"--namely, oversized earrings and wooden necklaces. Two weeks into the trip, I couldn't actually bear the thought of lugging all of that around and found gracious friends around Cairo who have let me stow away some of my excess baggage. Since, I feel have finally gained my backpacker stripes.

Nod arrived at the end of May to a whirlwind of packing and errands as I attempted to finish work, my intensive Arabic class, move out of my apartment, and otherwise end what has been a wonderful 11 month chapter of my life. At least, I thought it was a wonderful year. When my landlord came to check us out of our apartment, she wasn't so sure that the new cockroach infestation that occured during our tenure there added up to anything 'wonderful.' I will say, though, that Julianna gave those cockroaches hell--I've never seen someone wield a Raid can with quite so much righteous conviction.

With a month on the road, of course, it was only a matter of time before a steady diet of bean and falafel sandwiches off the street would do me in. In the meantime, Egypt tricksily proved it did have one last surprise in store for me: this time, when digestive disaster struck, it manifested itself in the form of bright, kryptonite-green poop. I've never seen anything like it. Unforunately, the solyvent green struck when we were touring the gorgeous and whimsical rock formations of the black and white desert--which meant that I more or less had to treat the great Sahara as one oversized litter box; my apologies to the White Desert Egyptian National Park. Sigh.

After technicolored gastro-intestinal displays in the black and white desert, Nod and I hopped a janky cargo boat across from the Sinai Peninsula to the carved wonders of Petra, Jordan--home to an ancient caravan trading site and, more recently (and famously), to the film crew of Indiana Jones' Last Crusade. We were joined by flocks of ageing and overweight European tourists--mostly white haired ladies still tough enough to beat the desert heat. Being one of the few women under 30 made for some interesting moments, however, as nearly every Jordanian we passed in Petra insisted on very sensually arranging a kind of bedouin scarf on my head. Amusing; a little creepy.

Nod left a little while ago to return to Ethiopia and finish up his work there in order to be back in the States by the 4th of July. In the meantime, my sister and brother-in-law arrived for a two week tour through Egypt, putting my hosting skills to the test. All in all, it's been a really delightful trip--long days of snorkeling through multicolored reefs in the red sea, enjoying the pyramids almost entirely to ourselves (the benefit of touring a saharan country in the summer!), and cooling off by the Mediterranean with a stopover in Alexandria.

Proudly, we have gotten off the beaten tourist path a number of times, all in the name of soccer. My brother-in-law has been intent on watching the recent matches hosted in South Africa. Fortunately, in the soccer-crazed culture of Egypt, it hasn't been hard to come by cafes showing the games. Unfortunately, those cafes are generally male-only types of hangouts, where sheesha is smoked and sweet tea poured by men in galibayas and the clacking sound of dominos adds another soundtrack to the soccer commentary blaring from the mounted tv. Undeterred by the usual social norms--or perhaps simply oblivious to them--the three of us have ventured into several very local ahwas to watch the games. Perhaps uniting over a common love of soccer, or in part because we brought our own scrabble board to join into the game culture of the backgammon and domino games around us, we've been invited in as peculiar, but welcome guests.

Now we're braving 115 degree heat and gusts of hot wind down the Nile in Luxor, where we'll be seeing the grand Karnak temple complex and the valley of the kings. Since the heat limits our siteseeing to the early hours of the morning, we're more or less "forced" to relax throughout the rest of the day in our air conditioned room. I celebrated yesterday with a 3 hour nap. Hallelujah.

But it's been surreal to think that I'll be flying back in less than a week--5 days, actually, and counting. By this time next week, I'll be watching firework displays in Washington, D.C., where I'll be apartment hunting for the weekend (And if any of you know of any leads for affordable housing the DC area--let me know!).

Last night I sat on the roof of our hostel as the hot air whipped around me, watching the sun melt behind the sandstone cliffs and the calm Nile waters turn grey in the evening light. Sillohetted palm trees struck against the skyline, and the call to prayer echoed out across the valley. I sat quietly to soak up the moment; there are so few of these left.