I’m being driven to the airport by a friend. Meanwhile I also belong to the family and therefore he is like an Egyptian uncle for me.
After almost five and a half months, it is now time to say goodbye to Egypt. What a special time I was allowed to spend in this country. Wonderful people that I met. They gave me a warm welcome and introduced me to their country. With a joyful heart and grateful, I am enriched with countless beautiful memories.
And with a joyful heart I move on. A heart calls me in France. And my heart follows.
7am. Arrived at Cairo’s airport.
I read on the internet that I have to fill out a document to enter France. I am fulfilling this new duty in order to be able to start my journey as a good passenger. So: printed out and filled out. Otherwise I would like to adapt to the new circumstances for the flight. But different information emerges online about the regulation between Germany and France (not to talk about Europeans arriving from Egypt), I pick something that fits my intension: Germans are allowed to enter France. With this information I go happily to the check-in counter.
My happiness suddenly disappears when the man checking in my baggage asks me for my connecting ticket to Germany. Damn. This is the regulation here: without a ticket to your home country, no boarding is permitted. I remember the three heroes from “A Story About Humanity” and get started. The airport employee listens to the story of my heart. And why I have to go to France now. The man shows sympathy for my story. It’s just that he’s not in charge. As soon as the man picks up the phone he is in a conversation. This sounds more like he is making a meeting for a coffee than clarifying my issue. My head begins to think about the fastest way to get a connection ticket. My heart remains true to one self.
The man has ended the conversation and turns to me: “You are allowed to take the flight. BUT! When someone is asking you about a connecting flight, tell them you got one.”. Deal. With all my sparse Egyptian vocabulary, I thank him for this solution. I am already flying, because of the pleasant anticipation to be in the arms of my loved one. But there is a second hurdle that I am aware of: the ID control.
With the visa I had to buy to enter Egypt, I was only allowed to stay for one month. I thought three. Oh well. Be that as it may, everyone will notice that February is a few months away from July. So also the man at the ID control. And those who stay longer have to pay when they leave the country. This man with a serious face would like to enforce that. But I won’t play his game. “Since February you are in Egypt?” “Yes.” “But you are only allowed to stay for one month.” “Yes, I know.” “So this means, you stayed longer, and you have to pay.” “The borders were closed. There have been no flights. How could I leave earlier? “. “Since one week there are flights”. “And that’s why I’m going. Now!”. There is silence. The man doesn’t want to look in my face or say anything. Silently he gives me the exit stamp and consequently my passport back. I thank very much and wish him a nice day. That is not replied.
Funny. Perhaps he knows that I fib: I thought, I can stay in Egypt for 90 days with the visa. And the flights went regularly until mid-March. But it was far from my travel mentality to take the next plane to Germany. And something told me that I should stay in Egypt and that I was in good hands there. That’s how it was after all.
After passport control, everything goes like clockwork. Just unfamiliar. This mask requirement. And all the illogic that comes with it. Can someone explain to me why it is compulsory to wear a mask on the plane when everyone takes it off at mealtimes? And also unfamiliar to sit in such an “empty” airplane. Really pleasant.
Once in France, the stewardesses walk through the rows with a spray. Should be used for disinfection. And at the airport at the passport control, nobody cares where I’m from and why I’m entering France. And nobody wants to see my printed forms. It’s really strange how each country regulates it for itself. As if a virus knows borders and nationality. But it’s nice that it’s so uncomplicated.
I walk lightly with my luggage to the exit. To where my heart has led me. In the arms that receive me. On French ground.
