Blog Post #10: Alhamdulillah

Day 7 – Luxor (continued)

Monday morning began with a leisurely chat alongside uncle Ramadan over Turkish coffee. My uncle is full of thoughts and ideas about everything from the Egyptian economy and state of tourism to domestic politics. He then took my friend, Adam and I on a driving tour of Luxor during the day time. 

Ramadan showed us sites around the city particular to our family. We stopped off at the Viking Travel office, our family’s tour company, the school my father attended as a boy, and the cemetery where my grandparents and uncle, Shaban are buried. 

Most noteworthy to me was the chance to walk through the Hotel Etabe that was referenced in so many of my mother’s letters home. In the late 1970’s, when she was married to my father, this hotel was one of the only in Luxor and an important social spot for young, trendsetting Egyptians. This was also a hotel where my grandfather, Abelrahim had a travel desk early in his successful career in tourism.

It was very meaningful to me to sit in the lobby of the hotel for a while and think about my then early twenty-something mom writing so many of her letters home from this same spot just over forty years ago. So many people in Luxor, within the family and beyond, remember her fondly and say “Alhamdulilah,” or “Thank God,” with big smiles on their faces, when they realize I’ve finally come home to Luxor after forty years. 

Following our tour, we spent much of the afternoon back on my uncle’s cruise liner eating lunch and lounging on the deck overlooking the Nile on another beautiful day in Egypt. We were grateful for this more relaxing and reflective day after the busy pace we’ve kept up since our arrival. 

That evening, my father picked us up to have another delicious meal at the family house hosted by my aunt, Selwa.

Each meal we’ve eaten at night has been unique and delicious and the hospitality we have received has been abundant and overflowing.  

Day 8 – Luxor (continued)

Tuesday morning began with a drive to tour the ancient Dendera Temple, a site located just five kilometers from the village of Qena an hour north of Luxor. This large temple complex dates to around 1700 BCE and was built for the goddess Hathor who, tradition has it, supported the skies with her arms and legs. As in the case of other sites we’ve toured, there is evidence that this sacred ground has been used and appropriated by various religious traditions over the millennia. According to my father, the park like grounds of this temple was a favorite place for he and my mother to escape to for the day and have a picnic together.

After a quiet afternoon, we headed out to a beautiful light show at Karnak Temple and then connected with my father for our last evening in Luxor. 

Each evening has typically begun with a Turkish coffee or chance to simply hang around and chat with groups of my father’s friends. These are all men he has known since childhood and their stories could fill the pages of a library of books. 

This night began with a trip to the office of my father’s balloon company followed by a walk to the tailor where we picked up the galabeya, or traditional Egyptian garment native to the Nile Valley that my father had ordered for me. I wore it out to dinner looking every bit the Egyptian on the streets of Luxor. For someone who has often struggled in life with a sense of belonging, it has been impactful to realize how much my features fit in on the streets here. Many have spoken Arabic to me assuming I am a native.

We dined at the house of cousins of my father and, as in night’s before, chatted about our family, my mother’s time in Luxor, and some of traditional sites of the city. After dinner, we said good bye to my father as he had plans to stay in Luxor for a friend’s wedding. As he dropped us off at the hotel, his final words were, “don’t wait another forty years before returning to Egypt.” I’m sure I won’t. 

Day 9 – The Final day (and night) in Cairo

Wednesday morning, we rose early and caught a Nile Air flight back to Cairo where we were again met by my father’s man, Mr. Esam. We dropped off our belongings at an apartment of my father’s back in Heliopolis before we got back in the car to navigate the treacherous and chaotic morning traffic along the avenues of this bustling metropolis. 

We arrived, an hour later, at St. Andrew’s United Church, the interdenominational ministry for refugees where my friend Adam had worked fifteen years ago. There, we connected again with Adam’s friends, Christie, the pastor at St. Andrew’s and her husband Steve. The church serves a throng of young refugees from across Africa and this work is in large part run by refugees themselves. It is a busy place and inspiring to witness the work there. 

After making plans for later in the day, we hopped in an Uber and took off for the trendy, upscale Cairo neighborhood of Zamalek to visit All Saints Anglican Cathedral so I could see the mother ship of my own denomination here. 

Then, we took a long walk through the neighborhood sometimes joining other Cairenes in risking life and limb by attempting to cross the street as eight lanes of cars whizzed by at break neck pace. We also managed to get caught in a rain storm (my friend, Adam tells me it rains in Cairo about three times a year) …

Later that day, we reconnected with Christie and Steve and boarded a train at a busy Cairo metro station to head to dinner along the Nile. We were met there by my sister, Yousra and cousin, Sohila who kept us laughing all night long. What a joy it was to be with them one final time. 

Yousra drove us back to Heliopolis and, after a hug and good byes, dropped us back at the apartment with our bags to rest a bit. Before we fell asleep for an hour or so, my sister, Hend, and her mother, Fatim knocked on our door to drop off a going away present and say goodbye too. 

After that we quickly fell asleep only to be awoken shortly after to get taken back to Cairo International Airport and our return flights home. 

We are now sipping cappuccino in Rome waiting for our connection to Atlanta. This trip has been full and all I hoped it would be. My father called to say that my visit had made his year. I’m left with a lot to think about and reflect on. 

I’ll post at least once more to share some thoughts once I am back in the US.