Christmas morning in Cairo: quiet reflections and new traditions
It's Christmas morning, and the Nile flows outside my window just as it has for millennia, indifferent to our human calendars and celebrations. I've been up since dawn, sitting on my small hotel balcony watching the city wake up beneath a hazy golden light that makes Cairo look almost mystical.
The temperature is already climbing toward today's predicted high of 73°F, though there's a pleasant coolness to the morning that won't last long. I'm on my third cup of coffee, which is admittedly not as strong as I'd prefer, but it's doing its job.
A different kind of Christmas
This is the first Christmas morning I've spent alone in years, and certainly the first I've experienced in a predominantly Muslim country. There are no decorated trees or holiday music, no smell of traditional Christmas porridge cooking. Instead, there's the call to prayer echoing across the city, the persistent honking of morning traffic, and the distant shouts of street vendors setting up for the day.
I arrived at a small café near my hotel at 7:30 this morning, hoping to find it open. The owner looked surprised to see a customer so early but welcomed me with a warm smile. When I mentioned it was Christmas where I come from, he brought me a complimentary plate of baklava alongside my breakfast of ful medames and fresh bread.
"Merry Christmas," he said, his accent thick but the sentiment genuine. That small gesture of cross-cultural kindness meant more than any elaborate celebration could have.
Reflections on the journey so far
121 days. I've been traveling for 121 days now, with 379 more to go before I return to Kristiansand. Almost a quarter of my journey has passed, and sitting here on Christmas morning seems like an appropriate time to reflect on what I've experienced and learned.
The last few days in Cairo have been extraordinary. Standing before the Great Pyramid, wandering through the Grand Egyptian Museum among treasures that have survived for thousands of years, getting lost in the labyrinthine passages of Khan el-Khalili bazaar - these experiences have shifted something in me.
I find myself thinking about time differently. The magnificent structures and artifacts I've seen have endured for millennia, making my 500-day journey seem laughably brief in comparison. Yet in the context of my own life, these 500 days represent significant change and growth.
Morning walk along the Corniche
After breakfast, I took a quiet walk along the Nile Corniche. The normally bustling promenade was relatively peaceful this morning, with just a few joggers and elderly men fishing from the banks.
I stopped to examine a row of trees lining the waterfront - some kind of palm variety I couldn't identify. Their straight trunks stretched toward the sky, providing minimal shade but adding a touch of green to the urban landscape. Nothing like the dense, robust pines of home, but beautiful in their own way.
A small boy approached me with a tray of trinkets - miniature pyramids and sphinx figurines - but when I declined, he simply smiled and asked where I was from. When I said Norway, his eyes widened. "Very cold!" he exclaimed, and I laughed, gesturing at the warm morning around us. We had a brief conversation about snow, which he'd never seen except in movies. These small, unexpected exchanges often become my most treasured memories.
Plans for the day
Later today, I'll visit the Hanging Church in Coptic Cairo, which seems appropriate for Christmas Day. Though I'm not particularly religious, there's something appealing about connecting with the Christian heritage of Egypt on this day.
I'm also facing the reality that tomorrow I'll be leaving Cairo. My train ticket is booked, and while part of me feels that familiar pull to move on, I'm also a bit sad to leave. Cairo has been chaotic and overwhelming at times, but also fascinating and deeply enriching.
I spent some time this morning organizing my backpack, sorting through the few souvenirs I've collected, including that beautiful inlaid wooden box from the elderly craftsman at Khan el-Khalili. It will make a perfect gift for my mother when I eventually return home.
The restlessness returns
Despite the moments of contentment I've found here, I can feel that familiar restlessness returning. There's so much more of the world to see, and my time is limited. 379 days sounds like a lot, but considering all the places I still want to visit, it's actually quite constrained.
I've been thinking about heading toward Jordan next, perhaps to see Petra. The idea of continuing eastward appeals to me, though I haven't made any firm plans yet beyond tomorrow's departure.
As I sit here writing this, watching the morning light change over the Nile, I'm reminded of why I embarked on this journey in the first place. Not just to see famous monuments or check countries off a list, but to experience different ways of being in the world. To learn how other people live and celebrate and find meaning.
On this Christmas morning, so different from any I've experienced before, I'm grateful for that opportunity. And I'm sending warm wishes to anyone reading this, whether you're celebrating today or not.
Time to finish my coffee and head out to experience more of Cairo while I can.