Eyeless in Egypt
~ nothing is familiar ~
First week of two years in Cairo — nights in the city smell of burnt sands.
Gritty daylight, the color of yellow paper, pierces the eye. Deafening heat of day gives way to a dry velvety cool and though I ache for rainforest green of steamy vapors I left behind in Sri Lanka, I’m thankful for it.
Verdi’s ‘Aïda’ in the desert! We’re invited. Butterflies of pleasure cataract down geographies of sleeplessness — how grand that’ll be! Anticipation makes me breathless.
Story of a kidnapped Ethiopian princess, torn between her love for an Egyptian general and her country, is the perfect drama for an Italian opera in situ.
Tomorrow evening.
As usual, nautilus of the Egyptian sun throbs through its timeless passage and is swallowed by a polished dusk.
For me, majesty of the Nile is a sensory feast — sights, sounds and smells. The river seeps into me and fills me up, as we drive along.
In harmony with elegance of waterfowl, Feluccas superimpose themselves on a pinkening panoramic sky and I believe I hear the chapuk!chapuk! of water as it laps against their worn wooden bows. Sanctuaries for water fowl — Ibis, moorhens and geese — islands of papyrus and reeds are briefly rimmed in gold then snuff out.
