Singing in the rain

I missed Egypt today. I miss it being yom iggom3a and waking up hung over as hell, tumbling down town to meet up with Annie over Koshari with pubic-hair in it and giggle over the stories we made the night before. The only day of the week we were almost left without harassment, staring at the people praying in the streets. I miss Annie not being pregnant and having a sensible life, i miss a partner in crime. I miss Hurreya and the little beans they gave us with our beers and mice running around on the floor between the customers feet. I miss the food, i miss having el3omda downstairs and delights delivered for a fraction of a buck. I miss the sun, i miss our veranda. I miss Alex and the little tam3ia-place i found, and falafel-places at home are starting to piss me off. I miss american men and the way they think you are capable of travelling around the world alone yet not walk yourself home at night. I miss being walked home at night when the rape-rates are exploding all over town. I miss double turkish coffees that i don't have to make myself. And i miss the flamenco-bakery pain au chocolat and i miss my friends. And i miss travelling. I miss speaking arabic. I miss kwagaga-parties and i miss going to the most expensive places in town for lunch any given day.

I just finished my last exam for now and did what we always do where we always go with the people i'm always with. And it's great, but sometimes it's a fucking acke not to move around when that's all i want to do.