I had just gotten married and my new husband was in charge of "developing and emerging markets" at an international cosmetics company, so I tend to remember Egypt as a kind of prolonged honeymoon. The exoticism of the teaming city was amplified by the by the exciting strangeness I felt during the first weeks of weeks of marriage, as I adjusted to the quixotic idea that I was actually someone's wife.
I spent most of my mornings by the swimming pool devouring Graham Greene novels. There I'd meet eclectic travelers from all over the world, many of whom wouldn't have been at all out-of-place in the stories I was reading.
Almost every evening there would be social events or parties, often at the homes of the local people my husband had gotten to know as he worked to set up his operation, and this was the most interesting and inspiring thing about my stay in Egypt, because the Egyptian people are uniquely friendly and hospitable, they're often artistic, almost always funny and... remarkably patient.
As the years have passed, we've shared snippets of our lives; first it was via occasional cards and letters, then more frequently through email, and now it's almost daily, on Facebook and Twitter. We've congratulated them on their promotions, marriages and new babies. We've watched them wait patiently for much needed government reforms, unable to advocate for them, and unable to protest against abject corruption without fear of reprisal. Then, a week ago, quite unexpectedly, these patient people, people often characterized as passive, collectively took to the streets... and the social networks... to change their political system.
I have another poem from my unpublished collection 
