Mummies, Muslims and Malaria

Egypt is unlike anywhere I have been or anything I expected. Forewarned of Cairo's mobs, touts and scams, I was prepared for the worst and never hoped to discover a people so kind and welcoming. We've certainly encountered the city's chaos and touts, but these cannot mask a core of genuine friendliness. Already we've met countless locals eager to chat over shai and - of course - offer detailed advice on exactly what to see, buy and eat while in Egypt. Hesitant to deal with potential anti-American sentiment, we've selectively varied our nationality between the states, Canada, South Africa and even France when asked the inevitable question "Where are you from?" Surprisingly, the response is consistently "We welcome you to our country". That is, with the occasional adjunct "George Bush is a bad man" when we claim to be American.

But at the heart of the nation's intrigue are undoubtedly it's mysterious historical roots. From the ancient artifacts and treasures at the Egyptian Museum to the Great Sphinx and pyramids in the suburbs, Cairo easily transports you back to a civilization of millennia past. Words cannot capture the experience of staring into the eyes of an exquisitely preserved mummy. Her hair, skin and fingernails recount not just an obscure ancient society, but her personal existence several thousands of years ago. Similarly, gazing up at the base of Giza's wondrous pyramids, images of their original splendor immediately come to life, and you can effortlessly envision the bustling society around which the structures were built 4600 years ago!

Over Cairo's core of friendliness and historical magnificence is a third layer of its Islamic tradition. One particularly memorable moment beautifully captures this religious element. We were lucky enough to catch the midday prayer while sitting before al Hussein Mosque, one of the most important mosques in Cairo. The song of the imam's call to prayer is so beautiful as to move a non-Muslim like myself, despite being unable to comprehend a word. What a breathtaking site to view a sea of men overflowing from the mosque to fill the square, all bowing is unison towards Mecca. Again, my ignorance of Islam prevents me from fully understanding their worship, but it was a magical sight nonetheless.

On a lighter - or scarier, depending on your perspective - note, our second night in Egypt was spent trying to navigate Cairo's health care system. After a delicious (and apparently contaminated) street-side dinner of Kushari (a mish-mash of anything and everything) the previous night, Russell passed the day battling fever, headache and violent stomach issues. By bedtime I was convinced that he contracted malaria in Tanzania, where the disease is both rampant and of its ugliest form. Not only did Lonely Planet describe Tanzanian malaria with exactly Russell's symptoms, but the (probably faulty) thermometer we bought read his temperature as over 41C (106F)! The paranoid girlfriend that I am, I dragged him out of bed in search of a malaria test. Three visits to the pharmacy and a failed hunt for a doctor later, we were sent home with a provisional diagnosis of traveler's diarrhea and a pack of drugs. Readers should rest assured that I am just that paranoid and Russell has not died of malaria.