On my last visit to Cairo in March, I was hit by a post-revolutionary reality when I arrived at the airport. The planes coming from Europe are much smaller now, as if proving the country’s stature has somehow diminished. I was through passport control in under five minutes, an unheard phenomenon in the past. I’m usually put off by the swarm of men offering their help with my luggage, for some meandering tips. But this time what struck me, as I looked around the baggage carousel, was the absence of tourists. There were just a couple of courageous ones, who against all odds, decided to take the trip they had been dreaming about for years.
Then I cried for how desolate and pitiful the airport looked.