First Goodbye

I'm slowly saying goodbye to my life in Cairo. Yesterday, my roommate and I left our apartment where we had been living for 10 months. 10 months, that’s longer than a pregnancy. And even if its 4,000 times less significant than the miracle of life, 10 months in an apartment is still a big deal, especially when its been at the center of your existence in the chaos of Cairo. The apartment wasn’t perfect, and its landlord was even less so, but still, it hurt just a bit to say goodbye.

We had a kitchen, where we boiled our water for mint tea, where we killed a few too many cockroaches, and where we experimented with Cairo soy milk.

There was our living room, where we would burst in from a hot day, thankful to be home. Collapsing on the couch, we would turn on the TV and watch Arabic news, Egyptian movies, or terrible American films that somehow made it over here. On that couch I watched the McCain-Romney-Huckabee-Paul debates, remember those? On that couch I took naps, entertained guests, and took refuge from the pollution, traffic and chaos outside my door.

We had a dining room, and on the massive table we feasted on pancakes and eggs to replicate American Saturday morning breakfasts. We rang in the New Years with plenty of sisters and good wine. On that table I found out about my uncle, and on that table I drank my Nescafe.

In the bathroom there was a lot of blue: blue tiles, blue bathtub, blue sink and blue tub. In the bathroom I practiced my global trivia on the shower curtain. Uzbekistan: Tashkent. Kazakhstan: Astana. My roommate used to piffle toilet paper from our gym, so we always had a good supply of the Intercontinental's finest in that bathroom.

Then my own room of course. It was a den, and I was its bear. The window by my bed was my perch for looking down at the cow and sheep, and for eavesdropping on the gossiping neighbors. Most of the time they would scream, so I didn't really have to strain to hear. The bed was rock hard, something my back loved. I also loved it because it never failed to make me laugh to see a friend jump on the bed and then immediately grab their rear in shock more than pain. My room was where I went to recharge and to relax, to focus and to zone out, and to wake up and fall asleep in Cairo.

I am still in Cairo, but I am no longer in my apartment. I am in a new apartment, with two good friends and with all the comforts I could ask for. But, my heart is still a little sore. I had to say goodbye to my apartment, which I know is the beginning of the big goodbye to the city. But not just yet.