Every time I go to Egypt there's a small chance that I'm never getting on my return flight.
Like the archetypical girl who falls in love and flees everything she knows only to be with the man she loves, I fall in love with this country all over again every time I step out of the plane only to be welcomed by the unavoidable smack of humid, dusty air at the crack of dawn. I fall in love with the busy streets; I fall in love with the city that never sleeps; I fall in love with the late nights turned early mornings; I fall in love with the warmth of the culture; I fall in love with the familiar yet intriguingly unknown; I fall in love with the history bursting through every wall and window; I fall in love with the sights irreplaceable; I fall in love with the din of robabekya in the morning and azan at 5 AM after I've just found a cool spot on the pillow so I can fall asleep.
It's the beauty of its sunsets; the crystal blue of one sea to the next; the architectural bliss and historic goldmines; the countless things to do and places to discover; the simplicity and warmth of its people; the wafting scent of corn grilling over coals, streetside; the fresh fruit from the fruit vendors down the road; the sweetness of sugarcane juice delivered to your car...
It's poetic chaos, really.
Every time I'm back in Egypt I fall in love with the feeling of 'home', and that's where I belong.