Oranges. That’s one of my favorite memories from Egypt. Our tour guides and hotel agents offered them as complimentary gifts all the time.
There was one night in Cairo when I felt slightly queasy after dinner. I think I was exhausted from all the traveling, late nights, and intense field trips (not to mention, we had just learned of the increasing riots that would eventually cut our trip a little short). So, I ventured back to my room and rested while peeling an orange, savoring it’s delicious sweet juice. For 10 minutes I sat peacefully on my bed without interruption, eating one slice. Then another. And another. There wasn’t any sign that life existed outside of the small oasis I had created. Just me, my room, and my orange. Even though I knew turmoil and chaos were growing on the other side of the glass door that separated me from the outside world, I still felt safe, protected, and untouched. All I cared about was sitting right where I was, peeling one piece of orange at a time, enjoying the simple truth that my life is good.
My trip to Egypt was memorable because of small things like oranges. It’s true that I did see a lot of grand historical sites like pyramids, tombs, temples, and mummies. Indeed, they were impressive. But I think the most memorable experiences were the minor events that happened unexpectedly. For example, there was one day in Luxor when our whole class rode camels around a small village across the Nile from where we were staying. It was humbling to see that people still live in small mud huts with large palm tree branches as a roof; that mothers still carry their babies in hand-sown blankets as they walk to and from the market; that fathers still grow and harvest sugar cane as their only livelihood; and that children still run barefoot through dirt roads littered with debris. I suddenly didn’t want to care anymore about all the things I normally worry about (school, career, physical appearance, etc.). I wish I could have spent more time with the people in hopes of understanding their circumstances better. But rules, time constraints, and other restrictions prevented me from doing so.
However, I will never forget the love I saw in one father’s eyes as he helped his 2-year-old son mount a camel and ride it around a small hut. Or the old man who jokingly scolded my camel guide for taking some sugar cane from his harvested piles. Seeing the people reminded me of oranges: the small doses of delight that frequent our lives if we’re able to see them.
Katie Larsen, Winter 2011
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