Friday, October 16, 2009

At some point while I was gone, the rooster that lived in the trash heap behind our building disappeared. I'd like to think his was a slow and painful end in retribution for all the nights he kept me up or woke me early, but I'm sure whatever fate befell him was swift and routine. I was acquainted with him for a year. He was frequently a topic of conversation, an icebreaker in conversations with other downtowners who had their own poultry problems, and even provided recreation (Ross's bottle throwing, murderous plans to find a BB gun at the nearest sporting goods store, photography, etc.) I'm not so sentimental that I miss the noisy feathered monstrosity, but in some strange way, reflecting on the life and times of the trash heap rooster puts in perspective how long I've lived here and how things have evolved. Ross, with whom I switched from one rooster-terrorized apartment to the other, is now back in Texas and Phil and Cynthia have been living here for months. When I was first kept awake by cockcrows and car horns, I didn't eat street food, scampered through traffic like a frightened rabbit, and stressed over cab rides and landlord visits. I don't suppose getting over these issues implies any sort of grand personal transformation, but in so many ways, I really have grown from this experience. Lest I wax sappy, I won't share paragraphs of verbose self-analysis. I will say that, as a I grow preemptively nostalgic (I can't convince myself that having two months left with my friends and routines and favorite haunts isn't the same as leaving tomorrow), I am increasingly aware of how meaningful living in Egypt has become to me. My tumultuous feelings and ambivalence about returning have relented and I am, more often than not, convinced of the rightness of choosing to come here. Realizing that it's all coming to an end soon has me wondering what I'll miss and what's to come.

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