For those interested, moving day went well, and my trip to Cairo was fantastic! Not only was it great to see Aliza, but Cairo itself was really swell too! My impression of the city is that it was really glorious in its heyday, but its been pretty neglected too. Plus, all that damn desert sand probably doesn't help much. It was really interesting to be in a country where I had absolutely no clue how to even begin trying to express myself. Arabic is not at all like any other language I'm familiar with. I might not know more than 2 languages, but I got lucky during my travels and got a few words in when traveling in Germanic and Romantic-speaking countries. Not the case in Cairo. My favorite "Marcy's a lost tourist moment:" Asking the soldier with two huge rifles at the Nigerian Embassy to point me to a nice garden/park thing in Zamalek, the area where Aliza lives. The guard, not speaking any English, and myself, not speaking any Arabic (I assume it was Arabic), had a 5-minute exchange via hand signs and facial expressions. Our exchange also included the help of about 3 other Egyptian men walking down the street, and another guard who also spoke no English. It was sort of funny and frustrating at the same time, but it gave me an appreciation for the similarities humans across the globe have, in spite of religious, cultural or language differences.
While in Cairo, I checked out the Pyramids at Giza (a must-see), saw a bunch of old mosques and churches, chilled with some mummies (King Ramses II and his clan, you know), pretended to be married, was asked if I wanted to be married, bought tons of souvenirs and got in a fight with a taxi driver. Plus, ate lots and lots of delicious food -- no joke, Egyptian food is pretty legit. Beans, rice, shawarma and spices, what's there NOT to love?
Getting back to the States was quite a struggle, though. After being screwed by Air Canada, it took me three days to make it back. Below is a quick breakdown of what my return trip looked like:
Thursday, June 25th.
12 am: Departed the Cairo Airport for Madrid.
4 am: Arrive at Madrid, chill next to the Metro for two hours.
6 am: Take Metro back to Rios Rosas to pick up my luggage.
10 am: Take a 30 euro cab to the airport after realizing my luggage is way too much to handle on the Metro.
10:45 am: Attempt checking in to my flight, scheduled to depart at 12:45 pm. Lady at counter tells me the Air Canada person I spoke to in April about changing my flight never charged my card. As such, I must go settle that at the Lufthansa desk.
11:15 am: Attempt checking in again, and must return to Lufthansa desk to pay 70 euros for my one overweight bag.
12 pm: Finally waiting in line for my departure flight to Toronto. Two hours later, I'm still waiting.
2 pm: Passengers are told the flight is canceled due to some mechanical problems on the plane. We'll have to wait until the following day.
4 pm: Get to a hotel where I'll be spending the evening. Start watching "Fama," Spain's version of "So You Think You Can Dance" and fall asleep. The dancing is terrible.
9 pm: Wake up, go to dinner, get back to my room. Start sorting through my bags and re-packing.
Friday, June 26th.
8 am: Get up and run downstairs to catch a bus to the airport.
9 am: Get to the airport, wait in line for about an hour before I'm able to check in. When I do, I'm told that my connecting flight from the previous day doesn't run on Fridays, so I'll be re-routed to another Canadian city and won't make it into Denver until Saturday morning. After throwing a fit and checking other airlines for flights, I bite my tongue, swallow my pride and get on that plane to Toronto. I figure that at least spending a night in North America is a bit closer to home, right?
8-hour flight across the Atlantic: I keep having to listen to Spanish boys ages 8 to 11 be little twats as they tell each other how excited they are go visit Canada and learn English -- without ever speaking a lick of English to any of the Canadian flight attendants who don't speak Spanish. Oh the children...
3 pm, Toronto-time: Arrive, go through customs and ask about changing my flight. It can't be done, so I'm taking a midnight flight to Winnipeg, spending the night there, and heading to Denver in the morning.
11:30 pm: Board flight to Winnipeg.
Saturday, June 27th:
1 am: Arrive in Winnipeg. The airport is so tiny it only has about 12 gates (so it seems) and the gate area closes until 5 am. I'm shuffled off to spend the night in the uncomfortable chairs outside the Gift Shop.
5 am: I wake up to check in. I discover I have to go through customs again (this time, U.S. Customs), and that I have to bring in my checked bags. Which I should have picked up the night before. And which no one, of course, mentioned to me previously. I frantically ask Air Canada employees who has a key to the lost baggage area, which no one does, except for the baggage workers. Their best advice? Ask United Airways, who is operating my flight to Denver, to put me on a later flight. There's no way I can get my baggage on the 6 am flight I'm supposed to take, because baggage employees don't start working until 7:30 am. I cry some more, throw more fits to no avail.
6 am: Nice United Airlines woman agrees to put me on an 8:10 am flight, which probably won't take off until 9:30 am because of weather delays. Surprisingly, Air Canada baggage guy shows up early (he always gets in at 6 am) and I get my bags. I feel tired, greasy and overall disgusting, but hopeful that my journey will end soon
9:3o am:Finally board the delayed flight to Denver. After everyone is buckled in and the safety demonstrations have been done, the captain comes on the intercom and says the passengers have to get off while mechanics check out a problem that has arisen. He's not sure how long it will take, but at the minimum, probably 30 minutes.
10am: We re-board the flight, and after the safety demonstrations again, the flight is canceled.
12 pm:After waiting in line with all of my bags AGAIN, I get on standby for a 2 pm flight to Denver. I lug my 130+ lbs of baggage around the Winnipeg airport and go through US Customs AGAIN. Hating my life, to say the least.
2 pm: Get lucky, get one of two spots on the flight.
4 pm: Finally get to Denver. My parents didn't get my message that I was on the 2 pm flight, I take my time getting my luggage and wait about 20 minutes for the 'rents to come pick me up. Some homecoming.
And since then, I've been doing a lot of babysitting and sweating in Denver. I'm on the hunt for a job and completely confused as to what my future goals are. Stick with journalism? Go back to school? Opt for a new career path? My future's pretty gray right now, and I'm doing my best to cope with it. But for the moment, I have to end by saying that it's good to be home, and that like I've expressed before, I'm incredibly grateful for the opportunity I was given, and I don't regret a minute of it.
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