During the first week of Janurary this year, I stumbled upon a job post in Cairo. I believe I was at the Reg first floor tables pouring over list hosts, scanning for anything with the words “international,” “politics,” and “health insurance included” in the description. After five days of frantic emailing for recommendations and multiple edits of personal essays, I somehow met the deadline. Another week later, I was scheduled to interview. Two weeks after that, I woke up to an email in my inbox telling me that I had gotten the position. And I guess now, eight months later I’m out on my second-floor balcony, feet propped up on a wicker chair, looking out at the dusty shades of sand covering every inch of New Cairo in Cairo Governorate, Egypt. And that’s just how life happens.
So hello hello from the American University in Cairo where I am part of the 2015-2016 cohort of the Presidential Internship Program. Even though it’s Cairo, even though I don’t speak Arabic (yet), and even though I don’t know a single person within thousands of miles (yet), this place radiates familiarity. Every university anywhere is bound to have a few things in common – a ton of extracurriculars, professors brimming with knowledge, truckloads of students my age bustling through classrooms, hallways, and the quad. Those just happen to be some of my most favorite things. I feel at home.