You Are A Queen

I sat in the back of the 2005 Toyota as I had been for the past several hours, other than a few brief stops made for food and bathroom breaks, in a sleepy daze. I had taken an Advil PM at 5:30 that morning and it was nearly 4pm, yet I couldn’t shake the moondust from my eyes, not dissimilar to the dust that encased the worn vehicle that had transported me from Cairo to the Siwa Desert. The bumpy ride didn’t help.

“Cairo ranks number 17 in the world when it comes to capital city roads” was a line ringing in my ears with every jolt my body felt. It was said by my travel guide the night before as we sat next to the Nile River smoking Shisha. I was still disoriented in many ways. I was seeking an escape from my real life for a moment. I was in need of a slap in the face experience to wake my soul up, to jolt me into my new life reality that somehow had felt for the past year like a long lucid dream of going through the motions trying to rebuild my life in New York after so many things had happened.

And there I was, bouncing on a dusty road to who the fuck knows where. My friend and travel companion was seated next so me, seemingly equally foggy. She had booked this portion of the trip, and in my haze of life, I hadn’t questioned it. “I have a lot of friends in Egypt and they told me what we should do,” she had said. I was coming off a bout of illness, frustrated with my job so much that tears had sprung to my eyes the day before I left while in a work meeting, full on weeping at the state of my complicated relationship, and a feeling of overall emptiness.

All of a sudden, the car stopped in the middle of the road. I cracked open an eye and could see through my smudged glasses lens that we seemed to be in the middle of a town. Which was a major change in scenery considering we’d been on a road that felt like it was going nowhere for so long. We were nearly on the edge of Libya to be fair.

The front door of the car opened and both me and my travel companion shifted in our seats to try and wake up / be aware of what was happening next. To be fair, our driver didn’t speak English so we had to simply follow his cues whenever we stopped.

A man wearing a baseball cap, a polo shirt emblazoned with the tour company’s logo on it, skinny jeans that invoked the “Diesel” era, and a big toothy smile jumped into the front seat.

“Hello, I am am Magdi, you tour guide!” He said with enthusiasm. ….a big toothy smile that beamed across his face. 

I could have cared less. I was pissed. Not just generally pissed, but pissed with a capital P. I was stuck on a 10 day trip in Egypt, a place I had dreamed about going to for so many years, since I was 10 years old and studied Egyptian history, since I had dreamed about becoming an archeologist, since I had wanted so badly to be in front of the pyramids. And the whole thing had blown up in my face. My friend and I had a conflict before we left Cairo where she on no uncertain terms had let me know that she despised me. That she was tired of hearing about how I didn’t feel well. That I had ruined every prior trip we’d been on because I had slept in. Because she felt that my sleeping in had wasted her time. That she felt she had to babysit me. That she refused to let me ruin her precious vacation. That she would be mad at me for as long as she pleased. And so, we’d seen the pyramids together not speaking to each other. 

I wanted to peace the fuck out. But if I did, our friendship would be over for good. I hadn’t ever before in my entire life felt a greater need for a good vacation. My brain was in a scramble. I didn’t want to dramatically end a friendship based on a fight, even thought I wanted to get the hell out of the situation. I also didn’t want to leave a woman on her own in a dubious country. I also didn’t have the extra funds to splurge on some other random last minute trip. And so I had gotten in that car at 5:30 am to go so some random place she had decided we should go.

And there Magdi was, with his big smile.

To his credit, he read our energy and, in an effort to be gracious, made a comment “I know it was a long trip so you both must be tired.” He didn’t attempt to engage with us further, as the car began moving once more. About 10 minutes later, we arrived at our “camp.” 

We all stumbled in, me, my friend, plus a woman from Switzerland and her son who we’d seen at other stops. The entire thing felt like a mystery, and one that I didn’t care to figure out.

Magdi began introducing the tour and what we could expect for the rest of the day and into 

All of a sudden I had a powerful urge to pee. And a consternation in my entire being to scream. I stood up, a big abruptly, and also rudely, interrupting his speech.

He had every reason to judge and dismiss me from that second onward, some idiot American woman who didn’t give him the courtesy of introducing himself in HIS domain. I cringe in embarrassment thinking back to that moment.

The following days, we spent flying over the red sun desert in a truck, sharing laughters and videos, sand boarding, watching baby wolves come out at sunset near our temporary camp, watching the sea shimmer at dusk, jumping into a salt pool, wandering down a market street at night, sharing a blunt, and dipping into a night pool. He left me with a bracelet. “It is to heal you,” he said quietly. We were saying goodbye. 

I looked up at him and my eyes filled with tears. “How did you know?” I asked him, quietly.

He responded, “I will tell you next time you visit me.” 

I grabbed him for a tight hug, a huge lump in my throat.

Let's share one last cigarette, he said, to shift the mood. And so we did, sitting side by side in the desert camp, with no words between us. 

When he spoke his last words to me, he did so quietly.

“You are a queen.”