Missing my fellow bread-carrying judger

Walking to school, the Abu Houl intersection.

   The art of bread carrying. I always admire the stacks of bread being transported from point A to point B while on my way to school. Bread is a staple of the Egyptian diet. The flat, round pita-type bread is eaten with everything, often times used as the utensil instead of a fork or spoon. And in a city of over twenty million people, that means a lot of bread has to make it from the oven to the home.

   The most common way I see is on a large, woven tray carried on top of the head, but there are apparently other methods to get that bread safely through the busy streets. Sharon, my walking buddy, and I used to rate the levels of expertise exhibited by these bread transporters.

   The bigger the tray, more points. The higher the stacks, more points. No hands, more points. Sometimes the tray has multiple levels, so more points. My favorite are the women who navigate the traffic, tray balanced precariously on top of their head, while talking on their cellphone. Or the kids swerving around cars on their bikes, bread tied in front or behind them. Bikes equal more points.

   Sharon and I couldn't believe it one morning when a car passed us with bread laid out on the hood. We had to create a special bonus round for that level of skill!

   Sharon was an awesome walking buddy to school every day, and I'm going to miss her while she goes back home to the states for a few months! Even though I have so many great friends from other countries, sometimes there is a special connection that can only be found in someone from the same place, same background as you.

   Sharon is a solid, down to Earth woman who understands my lingo, my accent, my mannerisms, how I see the world, everything. She lived in the room next to me at the hostel, having hung out in Egypt for a few years after marrying a sweet, shy Egyptian man. I definitely took advantage of her advice and experiences from living here, from how to get to the grocery store to how to have the best “don't mess with me face” while walking through the street.

   Sharon, I am going to miss walking into the flat every day after school and calling out, “Sharon, my Sharon!” And hearing you answer, “Liza, my Liza!” Then immediately sitting outside on the patio with your LM Whites, you listening so attentively to all my adventures with the three-year olds that day, and taking my side on anything that might have gone wrong.

   I might even miss you feeding the street cats that you spoiled so much now one doesn't even run away from me. And who is going to make me chicken soup? Because I know you said it's simple, and explained the process to me, but cooking an entire chicken is still intimidating.

   Don't worry, though. I will send you any updates about new ways I see to carry bread through the streets on my way to school!