The point of all this, friends, is that we as Mets fans should be used to disappointments; I don’t need to point out our team’s history, nor our masochistic love for them. Our teams do not win. They’ll look good for a while – maybe – and then lose. Of course, I’m not a pessimist. I do believe our team can and will win the World Series in the next five or so years. So yes, I’m disappointed the Diamondbacks may win tonight (I suspect they will have won by the time many of you read this… Or not.) Yes, I’m disappointed that the Rays made an amazing run for nothing. Yes, I’m disappointed that the Phillies may go to the NLCS again… But these are minor disappointments compared to the years of roller-coaster-ride heartache of being a Mets fan.

And so, Mets fans, here is my proposal. Since we are, first and foremost, New Yorkers, let us extend the olive branch and well-wishes to our brethren in the Bronx. I am not suggesting we jump ship, nor am I suggesting we jump on a bandwagon or become front-runners. What I am suggesting, however, is that we not hate the Yankees – at least for now (I’d say forever, but I know that’s too much to ask from many of you). Our team has absolutely no shot of winning the World Series this year, and so there is absolutely no harm in rooting for the Yankees. They are, after all, New Yorkers just like us.

I know, many of you will now tell me that Yankee fans would not do the same for us, were the situation reversed. First of all, I don’t believe this is true. Perhaps many wouldn’t, but a great deal would, in fact, do what I am asking here. It doesn’t hurt to extend our good will; perhaps when we are eventually a contending team, such will be given to us. And who knows? Perhaps one day the Mets will be the better New York team, at least for a while.

Until then, my friends, I bid you adieu.

For one thing, I truly love the sport of baseball. Though I hesitate to sound bombastic, I believe that it is one of the most majestic games ever created. The amount of skill required to play the game, even at it’s most basic levels; the strategy, the planning, the tension, relief and anguish inherent in nearly every moment… It truly is a wonderful game. It’s a game of the people, and contemporary stadiums try to incorporate that aspect of the game into the same building where they jam as much “luxury” as possible… And that’s just one of the many reasons that I truly love CitiField; it really is one of my favorite places in the world.

But I digress. Tonight’s game was important to me because I love baseball. Tonight’s game was important to me because I love my Mets. Tonight’s game was important to me because it completes my (attended) baseball season.

Tonight’s game was of particular importance to me as it was, perhaps, my chance to say goodbye to Jose Reyes, Mets shortstop. (I say “perhaps” only because we don’t know if he’ll sign somewhere else upon hitting free agency at the end of the season.) What a game it was for him, too – he went 3 for 6, with two home runs, his efforts rewarded with a batting average .001 higher than that of Ryan Braun (.336 vs .335, respectively). It looks, for the moment at least, as if Jose Reyes will win the National League batting title – the first man in the history of the franchise to do so. At the very least, then, if Jose does decide to sign elsewhere (though the Mets should sign him for the salary he deserves and would get on other teams), at least he’ll have left us with that parting gift.

A fuller discussion on that could and may receive due attention in its own post, as may thoughts on the playoff picture. Maybe they’ll share my next post.

Oh, and a final thought – my record at Mets games for the year is something like a pathetically paltry 2 for 12. Well, here’s to next season for the Mets, and to a successful 2011 postseason for the Yankees. Until then, my friends, I bid you adieu.

Having said that, I can’t even say that I’m disappointed. How can you be truly disappointed when in your mind, you’ve already given up? I’m sad, and I wish they’d done better… I think what it comes down to is that I feel so let down. There was such promise, such potential… And now we’re looking at a potential 4th or 5th place finish in the division.

Mets fans, I believe we deserve better. I’m not calling for revolution-esque movements and protests outside the front office, but there has to be something we can do. I have faith in Sandy Alderson, and I have faith in Terry Collins, too. I truly believe that they want this team not only to be successful, but to be successful in the long-term – perhaps even dynastically so. Heck, I even think the Wilpons want that too (though, between you and me, I think their minds are more focused on the money side of the game; I can’t blame them, as I would be too if I were in their position). I also think, however, that perhaps we could put a little pressure on the men and women in the front office. “Johan and Ike were hurt all season,” we’ve been told and will be told again, “but look how well we did without them!” Well, yes, folks, all things considered, we’ve done ok. But a sub-.500 record is not something we should just be ok with because players were hurt. We are in not only the greatest city in the world, but one with such a rich, rich history of baseball that to have a team just accept a record below .500… that’s just embarrassing.

At this point, many of you may think I’m being unrealistic. We can’t expect to be the best team 100% of the time. I’d agree with you on that, and I’ll even say we can’t always make the playoffs. But we should be in the race until the very end every year. We need to develop our young talent so that they grow through the minors together, and not promote them too early. We need to spend more money than we have in the past, except we need to spend it wisely. If the Oakland Athletics in the early years of the 21st century could do it on a shoestring, then the Mets of today ought to be able to pull similar miracles. Lose the over-priced contracts (keep Wright and Reyes, for sentimental reasons if nothing else) and spend the money to buy statistically excellent players, big names or not. And then… Well, yes, on some level we need to accept the role of luck. Like I’ve said, we may not win it all every year, but we can certainly afford a team that will finish over .500 AND contend until the very end of every season.

Let’s call upon the front office to do all this, and not just silently wait until next year and cross our fingers and pray that the team does better. We deserve better, Mets fans, and we deserve it now. (Well, beginning in April of 2012, I suppose.)

Now that that’s finished, let’s bring the title of the post in. It’s been real, Mets, but your games simply don’t matter anymore this year. Yes, I may still watch one on TV – when I’ve got the time. Yes, I’ll still want you to win every game – though for the rest of this year, I really won’t care. Yes, I’ll still go to a game or two more – but I’ll most certainly have spent a great deal of time in McFadden’s first. Where will my caring be? In the actual playoff races. I’ll be rooting for the Giants to win the NL Wild Card, though I’ll be ok with the Braves taking that. I’ll be rooting for the Rays to overtake the Red Sox in the AL Wild Card standings, though a Yankees/Red Sox ALCS is always excellent for baseball and so fun to watch. I’ll be hoping for the Phillies to be knocked out in the Division Series. I’ll be hoping… for a lot. I think the Yankees will win the World Series.

Then, when it’s all over and depression starts to kick in ‘cuz I have to wait 4 months for more baseball, I’ll turn to football, where my regional bias kicks in and I can only really root for the Jets and the Giants, and against the Eagles.

Of course, there’s also the 2012 MLB season to look forward to. The Mets will be in Toronto mid-May (roadtrip, anyone?)… Until then, or at least until next time, my friends, I bid you adieu.

That being said, I’m of the belief that President Obama has done an excellent job thus far, and deserves reelection. I’ve made donations to his campaign, and have publicly shown support for the man, campaign-related and otherwise. There are things he’s done that I have not supported 100%, but that’s to be expected with any politician.

This post, however, should not be read as an endorsement. Yes, I support the campaign, but I will withhold my endorsement until such time as it becomes known for sure whether Mayor Giuliani will be running or not, for he will have my endorsement in a heartbeat.

I realize I’m not giving any reasons or details now, and I apologize for that. However, such notes will come eventually, as I’m sure I’ll be speaking about the election and the GOP candidates and the President often enough.

Until that post, and until next time, my friends, I bid you adieu.

Anyway, I apologize for wasting your time with this particular post. It’s not that I don’t care about your time. I do. I just don’t know what to say right now. Has anything happened in my life since my last post? Of course. Anything worth writing about? Absolutely. The thing is, I’ve been turning to twitter with such a high frequency that blogging had started to seem almost irrelevant. It’s taken until now to realize that micro-blogging like that really just isn’t satisfying. You’re restricted in how much you can say; you’re left with no space for true explanations and half the time you’re forced to write as if you had no higher than a 3rd grade education just to fit within the 140-character limit imposed upon you. “But what about services like Twitlonger?” Folks, how often are you near your computer when you’re tweeting? Granted, many of us are often by our computers. However, people are typically on their phones (be they smart or regular) when they tweet. If you use a regular phone, there’s no tweet-extension services. If you’re using a smartphone, you’ve got an extension that really only adds 300-400 extra characters. Folks, by the end of this sentence, this post will already be 321 words! (Yes, I’ve counted… via the counter at the bottom of the “new post” page.) I’m beginning to ramble. The point of this paragraph – I’ve grown tired of tweeting. No… That’s not the point. I still love tweeting… but tweeting ought to be simply supplementary to a true blog. So… that’s where that is.

Another question to address – what will the format of this blog now be? I can’t make any promises. I loved doing the food blog that I did. I also loved doing travel-writing. I think it’s safe to say that I’ll include both of those. I should put a single focus to this blog. Really, I should. That’ll help me to grow and talk to a wider audience. I just can’t do that, though. This will be a multi-purpose blog. That title on the top of the page here isn’t just a meaningless name. This is my blog – my thoughts, my ideas, my experiences… my wonderings.

Yeah, I’ve got nowhere else to go with this post. The real stuff should start coming in tomorrow. Good night – and until next time, friends, I bid you adieu.

I’d all but given up on it when my mother, my sister and I took our dog to the vet – for what, I don’t remember, though I don’t think it was anything too good. Not the point (not trying to be blase about it, it just doesn’t make a difference to the story). By some miracle, one of the women who worked in the office had a sister who had bought too many tickets (or, as I’ve since learned to be a fairly standard procedure, she bought several groups of tickets and kept the best ones for herself, selling the rest – or attempting to), and she’d posted a sign in the vet’s office telling that there were two tickets for sale for $75 each. I asked if we could get the tickets… and was told no. When we came back to that same office about a week later, the tickets were still for sale, though now they’d been reduced to $50 apiece. I asked again, expecting the answer to be no. And yet, I was told yes, and arrangements were made; we came back a couple days later to buy them.

It’s not every concert that can change your life, but that one most certainly did. I know, that sounds melodramatic, but consider this: I’m almost 100% certain that you, your friends, your family members – essentially, everyone that you know or even see on the street – will have at the very least some vague recollection of when they first heard their favorite song or artist. What’s more, even though they might not know quite how to describe what had happened to themselves when they heard the song/album/artist, you know there’s a change there. Doesn’t make sense? Let me try again: everyone, whether they know it or not, has had their life changed by a certain song, or a certain artist, or a certain album. It doesn’t have to be any concrete reason, though it certainly has to do with where you are in life when you first hear it – or how it stays with you and grows with you over the course of your life until the original meaning isn’t really there anymore.

So, who was this artist I’d gone to see – which band had I begged my parents to let me go to? Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band. This concert was part of the tour to accompany The Rising, Springsteen’s answer to 9/11, so to speak. (That particular topic – Springsteen’s new role after 9/11, as it were – for those who care to know, makes up a fairly large portion of my senior Honors Thesis.) Some backstory, however, before we begin. I can speculate as to the first time I heard Bruce Springsteen, but in modern memory, that would have to have been in the fall of 2001, as he performed at the “Tribute to Heroes” concert telethon. As I listened more and more to the NYC’s only classic rock radio station, I became more and more excited for Bruce’s new album. The wait was well worth it, and once I’d had a copy of that album, I began my quest to own every album he’d ever released. I loved his music, but I wasn’t obsessed – that would come the night of the concert – a concert full of such energy, passion, talent and love that it became something akin to a religious experience (a sentiment I’m not alone in expressing towards Springsteen’s performances) – July 15, 2003.

Those of you who’ve paid attention thus far, I truly appreciate it. That being said, if you’ve made it this far, you’ve no doubt realized by now that the first 600 words (or 4 paragraphs, or whatever) of this post have nothing at all to do with the title. That’s not true, though – let me tell you why. In all the concerts I’ve been to since the summer of 2003 (9 of them Springsteen concerts), there have been very few that I was truly and absolutely impressed by. No one that I’ve seen live has had the ability to get me as truly pumped, as truly excited, and as truly, genuinely involved as I was at that or the subsequent Springsteen performances.

Don’t get me wrong – I’ve seen a lot of great performances from the likes of Hey Monday, Fall Out Boy, and the like. However, only four groups have ever come close to creating a passion in me matched by that at the Springsteen shows. I saw two of them for the first time in the same night – Cobra Starship and The Academy Is… at the Honda Civic Tour’s stop at PNC Bank Arts Center in NJ, though those two would go on to absolutely stun me when I’d see them in small venues later on. The third group was/is Bon Jovi. For nearly the same length as Bruce and the band would do, Jon and the boys played hit upon hit after hit, and some other great songs of theirs too – always alive, always dancing and moving about and just having an all-around ball.

That group – a highly selective group that I very, very rarely find myself willing to add anyone to – grew by one tonight.

I’d seen Me Talk Pretty once before, at a pre-VMA concert where they were named as the Breakout Artist/Group of the Year for 2009 in New York City. I had already been impressed by them that night. At a show where Cobra Starship was performing, it was hard for me to imagine coming away from the concert talking about anything but them. Suffice it to say, I left that night talking to my sister and my then-girlfriend about Me Talk Pretty. Cobra had done for me what they’d always done – but here was this new, great band on the scene that had absolutely stolen the show. For weeks – months, really – after the show I could hear Uliana (the lead singer) singing “hello, hello” into the microphone and the sound of the crowd answering back in kind. It hadn’t been a surprise, once I’d seen their performance, that they’d be the winners that night.

Despite all that, however, I was still hesitant to add them to my personal list of greats (the list of four bands I mentioned earlier). Yes, they’d done an absolutely incredible job, and I’d become hooked, but I couldn’t add them just yet. For a year and a half since then, I’ve looked for when I might be able to see them in concert again – and there began the dilemmas. When they’d be anywhere nearby, I wouldn’t be available to go see them play. Whenever I would have been able to, they were somewhere far enough away for me not to be able to go. Either way, it didn’t work out for a year and a half. I couldn’t forget them, though – they were too damn good for that, so I began doing some street team-type work for the band. I started telling friends about them, I started mentioning them in my blog, I started talking about them on Facebook… I did what I could to get their names out there. Not so long ago – somewhere near the end of last summer, I’d say, if I had to guess – I won a contest of theirs and was THRILLED that I not only had a tee shirt and a signed copy of their debut CD, We Are Strangers, but that I would get to see them in concert again, and often.

Things finally worked out, and I was able to go to a concert of theirs tonight (although it’ll be “last night” by the time most people read this). I could not be happier that such was the case. Having been so graciously guest-listed by the band (I’d find out later in the night that Uliana herself had answered my email and added my name to the list), we arrived at the venue, picked up our tickets and went right to the barrier before the stage (anyone who’s ever been to a concert in a venue like this will know that it does not at all lessen the experience, nor the level of performer/audience interaction) so that we could be as close as possible for their performance. I had some idea what I’d be in for (remember, it had been a year and a half since the last time I’d seen them play), and I certainly expected to be as wowed as I had been at the pre-VMA concert, perhaps even something more. I didn’t expect to have my fucking mind blown.

From the moment that the houselights went down and stage-lights went up, I knew we were in for a particularly special treat. On the one hand, there was the instrumentation, which was, in a word, flawless. Not only in style, which is by nature subjective, but in technique (a naturally objective entity/quality), too. Uliana’s voice was perfect, and she demonstrated such range and abilities as I’ve rarely seen before. The lighting – and at times, the lack of lighting – added a whole ‘nother dimension, always playing perfectly to the beat and feel of the music. And, lest I forget, I’d also like to point out that Uliana is stunningly beautiful and, dare I say it (for the fear that it’d be taken as anything more than a compliment, but one believed) quite sexy, too. While that’s important, we also must not forget the band’s stage presence – a two-pronged entity including the band’s look on stage (flawless- well-coordinated, comfortable [I'd guess?] yet chic) and their interactions with each other (as often if not more often than many other bands) and with the fans (Uliana was nearly always moving around the stage and the space between the stage and the barrier, making connections with countless fans throughout the audience as she’d make eye contact, talk to them or smile at them and perhaps even grasp their hands for a second or two).

Not only that, but when their set was over, all the band-members – each of one of them so incredibly nice, so gracious, so friendly and accommodating and every nice adjective I can think of – were near their merch tables helping to sell their products and interacting with all the fans that came down to see them – and there were plenty of those. If doing all that even after a mind-blowing set as they had tonight says anything, it says dedication and caring and love for their fans – if not anything even better.

Yet all this does not make a band perfect. No, in order for that particular designation to be given out, a band’s performance must, for lack of a better term, feel perfect. (It’s much like going on a first date with someone – while you might get along with the other person perfectly on the surface, something just doesn’t feel right. You’ll go on another date or two, and give them a chance – but if it just doesn’t feel right, then the relationship or series of dates ends, and both parties move on with their lives.) Needless to say, tonight’s performance has absolutely sealed that feeling in me, and I know for a fact that I’ll be going on another “date” with Me Talk Pretty as soon as I possibly can; I highly recommend that each and every one of you out there reading this do the same – tell them Jon Rossi sent ‘ya.

And so, Uliana, Leon, Guerin and Nate, having said all that I’d like to formally welcome Me Talk Pretty to my personal pantheon of great groups and musicians. You guys have an absolutely incredible future ahead of you and I look forward to seeing you in concert as often as possible. And remember, the first round’s on me next time!

***
For those who won’t be anywhere near where they’ll be performing you, I offer the following music video – I really like it and hope you enjoy it, too.

In the mean time, however, I’ve completed another semester and a half of college (which means that I’m currently something in the range of 80 days away from graduating). I’ve been through many adventures and misadventures of love and life, which I won’t bother to go into details about here except to say that I’ve learned several important lessons which I won’t soon forget. If I’ll say anything about it at all, and let any advice be given based on those lessons, it’s this: look out for yourself first. Yes, you can be concerned about others, but your primary concern should be you.

What else has happened? I turned 21 – not as big a deal as I’d made it out to be, except that I can legally order a beer at a restaurant now if I want to. I made plans to go to Egypt again in January, but ended up cancelling them. Had I gone, I most certainly would have been in the country at the beginning of the revolution. And these revolutions sweeping the Middle East… Well, hey, I’ll (probably) talk about that another time.

The other major events revolve around school, sort of. I’m in the midst of writing my Honors Thesis, which is stressful except in knowing that I’m nearly done.

Baseball season is literally so close around the corner that I’m beginning to get antsy; I’m so super excited and cannot wait for that first regular season pitch on March 31st.

And that’s pretty much it, at least for this post. This blog will be updated once again more frequently than it has been the past several months (although you’ll note that there’s a sidebar with my twitter feed on it, so the main page of this blog has changed somewhat often, at least in some degree). And that reminds me – I don’t write nearly as often in blog format as I do in tweets, so to get a more frequent update as to my current situation, look at that sidebar, or follow me on twitter: www.twitter.com/jonrossi And if you’re reading this via facebook, then look to my profile for the same updates; my twitter automatically posts to facebook for me, though I certainly welcome you following me in both places – some things I do via social networking are exclusive to one site or the other.

Until next time, my friends, I bid you adieu.

My last entry here was, counting the short notes, 38 double-space pages. That ought to be enough to stand for the entire trip, especially considering the length of a thesis statement to graduate with honors is somewhere between 40 and 60 pages. However, it really isn’t enough; my own personal satisfaction won’t allow me to not say things, though perhaps certain details are better left for later on in life, when all this is gathered into a book, if it is gathered into a book. The worst part is, during the day I’ll think of something I want to say here, but I won’t have a pen or anything to write it down with. “I’ll remember it,” I tell myself. More often than not, I don’t, except that while I’m writing certain details will come back to me. That’s where you get the rambling nature of some of my notes, where you get the jumping from one point to another. Having said all that, and knowing the length of my previous entry, I would understand if loyal readers had not read my last entry, or at least not the whole thing. Then again, I would certainly appreciate it; my avid readers are who I do this for (That’s not entirely true; I do this for myself primarily and you, my readers, second, and to the folks at Macaulay, these blog entries are for you guys third so as to fulfill my study abroad requirements. PS – I’ll get my papers to you when I get home. I know I have to do that; more emails won’t make it happen sooner. Thank you for the reminders, though.). Anyway, the point of this blog, of these entries, is not to ramble about things unrelated to my trip to Egypt, so without much further ado, let’s get back to the land of the pharaohs.

Several of the girls (read: Catherine, Julie, Beth, Rebecca and Danielle) did end up going to CityStars mall Thursday night; I did not go with them. They related a bit of their adventure, letting us know that many of the shops were closed and that the movie was enjoyable (at least, I think they said they went to the movie). I also did not go with Noah, Jack and Charlotte, who went back to the horse-riding place we had gone to the night before (or, if you want to be specific, very early that same morning) – though Noah had not been with us, having gone with Sadaf to hang out with a friend they’ve made here. While there, they rode horses through the streets and the desert, as we had. However, they were doing this in sunlight, getting close to sunset. They asked for tea, the guides said no problem, and took them higher up in the desert to what was apparently his own hut, had them lay down on mats watching the pyramids and the light show there, and served them tea. (Sounds like a fantastic night, that I would have loved to do as well. There’s talk about going back and doing this again, but we’re having trouble figuring out a night when we can do this; we have, essentially, three or four more nights before the earliest flights start leaving – me and Julie leave on Thursday morning – and something to do pretty much every night. I’m hoping we can find a night to do it, but will not be overly upset if we don’t do it.) After all this, they rode back, got a taxi, and met Shoaib, Sadaf and I at Khan il Khalilli.

We hadn’t been doing much at the market – mainly just walking around, looking at things. I walked into several shops to see if they could make the souvenirs I still need to buy, and they were able to – but not that same night. That being the case, I didn’t buy anything. That, and I wasn’t in the mood to do any bargaining. Sadaf got a scarab and eye of protection necklace, but Shoaib did the most and best shopping of the night: a shisha pipe mechanism thing, a bit of flavored tobacco for it, some keychains, a soccer jersey, and maybe one or two other small things that I can’t recall. We also passed by a little café, or maybe restaurant is a better term – Naguib Mahfouz Café. When Jack, Noah and Charlotte arrived, they were thirsty and hungry, and since the three of us that had been in the market thought that this might be a nice place to try, we led them back there. It was thought that the place might be too fancy or expensive, but we sat down and saw a menu, and it was fairly reasonable, if a bit pricy, even considering the 10% tax and 12% service charge (which, by the way, are fairly typical, though you don’t always see both on the menu).

Anyway, when you walk into the place, your senses are immediately aroused – you feel the soft blast of air conditioning (at least, you feel the cool air suddenly after having been out in the heat), you smell shisha and various foods in the air, you can even taste the food and the shisha if you concentrate hard enough, and what you see… well, it’s a really, really nice looking place. You walk in and there are two large rooms, one to your left (with some sort of performance going on) and one to your right, walk down a hallway and there are still more rooms. This is where we sat initially to look at the various menus (there were different menus for food, for drinks, etc). The walls are white, and look and feel like the white stone walls found in Spanish Missions in the American southwest. The table was a wodden table with a gold-laced cover. That is, it was a large sheet of gold (probably fake) with an intricate design pattern covering a normal-sized table. We ordered our food – I ordered Kofta (which I’ve been ordering a lot of lately, now that my stomach is acclimated and can handle it – little side worry: will my stomach be used to foods at home now that I’ve become acclimated to food and whatnot here? I feel certain that it will, but still, the small little thought is there in the back of my head) and a mango juice, Sadaf ordered tahini and pita and a small pastry platter, Noah ordered Chicken Paneè… and everything else ordered was along those lines.

After we ordered, the waiter who had taken our order (dressed in a suit and fez, which seemed to be the uniform of workers in the place – the workers were all dressed very nicely and this made the environment so much nicer; it’s probably one of my favorite places that I’ve eaten at while here in Egypt) asked us in somewhat broken English if we’d like to move, so we could be closer to the singer. At least, that was the impression we got, since the singer was in another section of the restaurant entirely and that seems like a logical attraction. I was very happy with the table and did not want to move; I felt like we’d have to shout to each other to be heard if we were near the singer, plus we had a really nice table and the room practically to ourselves… so why move? But the general mood/desire of the group was to move, so I acquiesced. We were closer to, but could not see the singer. The tables were tiny; there was only one little circular table, with a diameter of probably 18 inches or so, but the waiter brought us another table. With our bags off to one side, we sat and really enjoyed a great little meal. There was great conversation about what each of the two semi-groups had done before meeting up, about the future of the trip, about the future after the trip (future plans to see and visit each other – vague plans and promises that would be nice to keep, and that I earnestly hope come to be true), etc. It really was a great meal, a great experience. Next time I’m in Egypt, I’m bringing whoever’s with me to this place.

Paying was interesting. I didn’t have enough cash on me, so I decided to pay by credit card and let the other people give me cash. This part was fine; everyone had cash and there were no problems. The problem came when ten minutes had gone by and the man had still not come back with my card. I walked over to the area where he had taken the card (where the credit card reading machine was) while the others were cleared away from the table, and tried to figure out what was going on. The first time the waiter had tried, the machine didn’t read the card. He tried again, and no luck. This is not the first time something like this has happened, so I figured I’d just put cash together somehow (going to the others and asking for more if I needed to). But another man, presumably more technically inclined, came over and simply changed the batteries on the machine, turned it back on, and voila, it worked and the meal was paid for.

We headed home after that, splitting into two cabs of three people each. We first found a cab for Charlotte, Jack and Noah. When they had been gone for a few minutes, we found (after rejecting one or two cabs for being too high-priced) a cab for Sadaf, Shoaib and I. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about the ride home, except… Well, for the first time in my life I really felt like Kerouac and Cassady. I was crossing the same roads again and again as part of different journeys, going to the same place, just generally getting IT. And that’s the thing – there’s no definition for what IT is; you just know when you or someone else has it. It’s the physical or aural or visual or sensual manifestation of the general attitude of a room of people, held onto for dear life by those who it’s created for, whether it’s been created consciously or not. Not only that, man but that taxi driver knew time. He knew IT. He knew. Travel fast, pass slow cars, don’t stop til you’re there and have brought IT with you.

And that was Friday night. Now, Saturday… Saturday was a really great day. We went to an oasis called Fayoum; it’s the only green area in Egypt that is not a part of the Nile Delta.