As altered states go, nothing compares to jet lag.   The mix of exhaustion stirred together with the lack of a sensory filter...I’m a babbling idiot.  After checking into the Mena House Olberi tonight, I ordered a coke at the bar, looked out at the pyramids looming out the window and proceeded to drink through the swizzle straw.  The bartender was very kind and maneuvered the not-a-straw away from my mouth before I got an air-bubble in my brain.  

JFK was tiring, but the International terminal is a high class mall designed by angels.  After a fitful sleep on a nine hour flight we were whisked out of the airport and through Cairo by the tour company. 

Security is always present here.  There’s an armed security man on board the bus.  The hotel is full of metal detectors at major doorways.  But yet, it seems to blend in.  Everyone feels safe, excited and relaxed.  The hotel is a throwback to the days of the English.  Churchill, Montgomery, and FDR have stayed here.  I ran across Dick Nixon’s picture in a trophy case near the elevator.  My camera doesn’t seem wide enough to do this place justice.

Our tour guide, Medhat, has a Masters in Egyptian history .  He’s named our tour group “Mafia” and has offered up the nickname “Al Pacino” or “Don Corelone” in case we can’t pronounce his. 

Mom took a short nap before dinner and I read and stood watch, planning to wake her up for her meeting.  I fell asleep reading, woke up and hustled her downstairs.  The tour was gone and I panicked.  The hotel staff contacted the tour and Al Pacino called me from his room and told me to set my clock back an hour.  I like him all ready.

Mom is back asleep and I’m going to retire very soon, but I can’t stop going out on the balcony and listening to Cairo.  The car horns mix  in with call to prayer drifting through the city.  It’s done live and every mosque has a different singer, called a mazin.    The air is cool, but temperate enough that I could fall asleep outside with the city humming in my ear.