LOCATION: Cairo, Egypt

It was the worst of times, it was the best of times.

That pretty much summed up my very first landing on the continent of Africa. It was my first venture out of Europe, and away from the safety nets of Western culture. It was a mix of experiences that still contribute to the way I travel today. 

However, the purpose of this post isn’t so much on traveling through Cairo, but more so focuses on a peer of mine, and the aspect of having flashes of “home”, when away from…home.

Thanks to this fool I had a place to stay while I was in Egypt. His name is Udit. He was studying overseas and was at the time, located in Cairo. After learning about my LOST2XX2 trip, we had planned to meet up when I touched down.Our first stop after I had landed was literally a hole in the wall spot. It reeked of cigarette fumes and desert scent. The elders were puffing down on their butts which gave the atmosphere a smokey gloom. We had sat down and caught up for a bit until it was time to eat. Me, being a fool of Western values, was awaiting for the eating utensils until Udit had asked me why I wasn’t eating yet. I dug in with my hands, a soft porous bread which would swim lavishly in a thick sauce with some form of meat that i could not identify. Told myself, It’s ok…it’s probably chicken. Although I’m not totally new to the concept of eating with my hands, considering it is also a traditional filipino form of eating, I had not done it in such a long time. Over a filling meal, we caught up and talked about our the build up of our tangled lives up to this point. Over the next couple days, we would hang out at the apartment that he shared with other students who came abroad as well. We would venture off into Giza to visit the pyramids where Udit would become first hand witness to me becoming culturally shocked and taken aback.

We would discuss this notion while one of the camels whipped a vicious loogie onto my cargo pants. We would come into what almost became a physical altercation with the guards of the Pyramid grounds after they refused to give us our tickets unless we allowed them to become our guide. Of course, we took the quite touristy cliche photos.

We would attend a wedding in the middle of the desert. I became witness to the universal language of love, as I would remain adrift in weird sounds resonating from the vocal cords of happy grand mothers and family relatives. We would feast like kings and end up getting the itis with our german friend (whom deemed himself an ASS-man) on the couch as those attending would pass by and look at us as if we were crazy.

Our last nite would be spent just hanging out and chilling on the river that birthed many a civilization, the Nile. I would tell him stories of my travels on the road, and we would discuss various topics as we would have back on the big red couch in my living room. I would also have the chance to become the one-man audience to the heart felt and emotionally driven spoken word poetry curated by Udit. It was dope to hear him drop such heavy verses, stanzas filled with angst and passion. Overall, I was grateful that I was able to balance the chaos with some type of familiarity.

Sometimes, we need just small reminders of “home”, to help us along our travels. The concept of feeling “homesick” is always an issue when you’re in some place far way from your comfort zone. And it’s OK to feel that way. It’s normal. It is not a sign of weakness. It is more a sign that you’re human, a brave one at that.

Udit is now currently in Mumbai, India pursuing his dreams. Out of the awkward bunch of my brother’s friends, he always had a strong stance when it came to politics. What better way to make change than to actually be present within the place where you intend to bring upon change. I’m super proud of him and his travels and accomplishments. Maybe one day we’ll get to hang out in some other part of the world once again. I mean, I’ve got to make my way through India at one point, no? 

-PASSPORT|kenny