Don't drink the mango juice

East bank of the Nile. A casual amble along the water this evening, the temperature plummets in the evening and it is quite pleasant. Particularly in a city, as the posts of the last week can attest, that presents daily deliverances of absurdity and glamour.

And mysterious bacterial infections. Myself and two others visited Andrew, a student in my class today at Alsalam Hospital, perhaps the nicest in the city, where all AUC students are treated for more serious problems under our insurance. He has been there for two days now, with severe dehydration and what appears to be shigella, a very nasty case of shigella. Initially we thought, "let's buy him lots of candy and flowers," but then we recognized the impracticality of both. Instead we scavenged Zamalek for English language newspapers and magazines we brought into the hospital. Upon arrival, the hospital was like any other Western variant, and we were directed to his room. Yikes. With paled skin, flourishing facial hair and glazed eyes, Andrew wasn't looking too good. We instantly asked him what we could, and he replied "Get me out of this room, and into a private room. The guy other there I think, I think he's dying or something (cue the gags). Try if you can." So, it's double room, and on the other side of the curtain is an older man, who after further investigation, probably was on the fringe of death. We managed to negotiate a private room, and then contacted Andrew's parents in Chicago, clearly oblivious. We hung about, and arranged for a continuous set of visits from others until he comes back.

Being in a foreign country, alone, in a hospital bed, with some bizarre infection you don't understand with people around you shouting in a language you can barely comprehend can't be easy. Enough said there.

Then I went to the Hilton Ramses Center (mall, if you will). A story unto itself, in this seven floor complex of shops, primarily touristic in leaning. And then studied. And then, as the above depictes, walked along the Nile.