The day after Christmas: preparing to say goodbye to Cairo

There's a certain melancholy to packing up. Each item folded and tucked away is another step toward leaving a place that has, however briefly, been home. This morning, I stood on my hotel balcony watching the Nile flow past one last time, trying to commit the scene to memory.

It's the day after Christmas, and Cairo is going about its business as usual. From my vantage point, I could see the morning ferry making its way across the water, loaded with commuters. The city has its own rhythm, one that continues regardless of which Western holidays come and go.

I woke up early – as usual – and had my things mostly packed before breakfast. My train doesn't leave until this evening, but there's comfort in being prepared. The backpack I've been living out of for the past 122 days is becoming more organized with practice, though I still sometimes find myself digging through layers to find what I need.

Morning reflections

Breakfast was at the same café I visited yesterday. The owner recognized me and asked if I'd enjoyed my Christmas. When I told him I was leaving Cairo today, he insisted I try their traditional Egyptian breakfast – ful medames with fresh bread. "A proper goodbye meal," he called it. The warm fava beans topped with olive oil, lemon juice, and herbs was exactly what I needed on this hazy morning.

As I ate, I made a mental checklist of everything I've experienced in Cairo:

• The magnificent Pyramids of Giza and Sphinx ✓
• The incredible treasures at the Grand Egyptian Museum ✓
• The bustling Khan el-Khalili bazaar ✓
• The ancient Hanging Church in Coptic Cairo ✓

I realized I never got around to taking that felucca ride on the Nile at sunset. There's always something left undone, I suppose. That's the nature of travel – you can never see it all, and perhaps that's what keeps us coming back.

One last walk

After breakfast, I decided to take one final walk along the Nile Corniche. The weather was pleasant – around 64°F with that distinctive Cairo haze softening the sunlight. I noticed a group of workers setting up what looked like preparations for New Year celebrations, stringing lights between lamp posts.

I passed a row of sycamore trees lining part of the walkway, their mottled trunks creating interesting patterns of light and shadow. I stopped to photograph one particularly impressive specimen, its branches creating a perfect frame for the river beyond. These aren't as tall as the trees back h– well, they're not the tallest trees I've seen, but they have character.

As I walked, I found myself thinking about that news story I'd read about the ancient boat restoration project at the Grand Egyptian Museum. Four years to reassemble a cedarwood boat that once belonged to King Khufu. What patience that requires! And what a contrast to my own journey – moving from place to place every few days, barely scratching the surface before moving on. There's something to be learned there, I think.

Practical matters

I returned to the hotel by 10:30 to finish organizing my things and check out. The night clerk mentioned the dense fog advisory for tonight – apparently visibility will be reduced on the highways around Cairo until tomorrow morning. Thankfully, I'll be on a train rather than a bus or taxi.

I also read about some flight cancellations affecting Cairo International Airport. Another reason to appreciate train travel, though it does take longer. The journey ahead will give me time to process all I've experienced in Egypt before I move on to my next destination.

It feels strange to be leaving after spending Christmas here. Cairo wasn't what I expected – it was louder, more chaotic, more vibrant, more alive than I had imagined. The history here doesn't sit quietly in museums; it stands boldly in the landscape, coexisting with honking taxis and street vendors and millions of people just living their daily lives.

As I close this chapter of my journey, I'm grateful for what Cairo has shown me. I've learned that history isn't just something that happened long ago – it's a continuous thread woven through the present. I've seen how ancient knowledge and modern innovation can exist side by side. And I've been reminded that wherever you go, people find ways to be kind to strangers.

Soon I'll be on my way again. Jordan awaits, with Petra calling my name. But a piece of me will remain here, by the timeless Nile, under the watchful gaze of the Sphinx.

378 days to go. The world is still waiting.