Having lived in Turkey for a few months, and even visited Istanbul several times, I thought I would be moderately prepared to visit the Megacity of Cairo.
Wrong. Cairo is hotter, dryer, bigger, louder, dirtier, and noisier. It is more crowded, more conservative, and more politically unsettled. I had really good week there, but this is one vacation I am not comfortable summing up with “it was great!”. I did have a great time, but Cairo is not an easy place to be. Some things seemed to slap me in admonishment, as if to say ‘YOU SHOULD BE MORE GRATEFUL’. And I should be: in Canada I can drink the water from the taps, breath the air without taking years off my life, marry whomever I want, live wherever I want, dress however I want, stay out as late as I like, visit most countries with relative ease, and I’m not afraid of the government killing my family.
This is not to say I had a negative experience. Besides a sparse few moments of discomfort or tense situations, my time was overwhelmingly positive. Kailey, a friend from Winnipeg, was outstanding: she hosted me for a week, helped me with activity plans and transportation, introduced me to friends who showed me the city during the day, and arranged outings for our evenings. I spent time with locals who shared their diverse and passionate opinions about their home country, and expats who have left their home countries to teach here. True, the salesmen are aggressive and drivers run people over on a daily basis, but I was shown considerable kindness from strangers too: offering me rides, directions and advice. 
I had anticipated a warm and relaxing holiday, but this was not to be. More than once we left the house in the morning with short plans, only to stumble in late, dirty, and exhausted after a day of adventures. Many of my activities were ridiculously picturesque and quite surreal: Garbage City, and the view of the Cairo skyline over the City of the Dead at prayer time from the rooftops there, the Citadel and the beautiful mosque (my personal favorite), the Khan al Khalili souk and the whirling dervish show, the pyramids at Giza and Saqqara, the rooftop bar on an island in the Nile, shopping on Road 9 in the suburb of Maadi, the sharp divide between the Sahara and Nile River valley, the smoky bars with good food and good beer and good company, dusty trees, identical roundabouts, ladies-only train cars, protests in Tahrir, King Tut… It was a full and incredible week, but here’s one day:Mahmoud, our tour guide from the Citadel and Pyramids, had helped me track down the Arab Contractors Rowing Club, and so I showed up there at 6:30 a.m. with high hopes and no expectations. With minimal preamble: “Welcome! You’d like to row? Today? No cost, of course! What boat?”, I was assisted with my equipment (yup, a boathouse valet) and shoved off the dock with a wave. And so I rowed up the Nile as the sun rose over the hazy city, beaming at my good luck. The day, my last in Egypt, continued in this nautical theme (Richard!) and I spent the afternoon with a friend of Kailey’s on the back of a camel (aka ship of the desert) rolling across the sand in Giza. Afterward, I had an hour to pick up a couple souvenirs and KFC, and met the group for an evening felucca ride. Lounging on the spacious wooden sailboat I munched fried chicken (a felucca tradition) and watched the day end the way I had seen it start. That haze is not just mist off the river, but the sunrises and sunsets are beautiful because of the dirt.
