Have you ever tried describing Khan el Khalili to someone who’s never smelled oud, bargained like their life depended on it, or been sweet-talked into buying five things they didn’t even want? Yeah. It’s like trying to explain magic. (Ask me how I know)
I grew up overseas - Egyptian by lineage, American by birth - and somewhere in between when it came to everything else. After college, I moved to Cairo for a year to spend time with my family and experience the culture up close. I guess part of me wanted to feel like I belonged. And despite the constant, "You're not really from here, are you?"...I did.
I found that feeling in the music that makes my hips move without warning. In the way I inhale koshary like it’s a competitive sport. In how my kids now proudly teach their friends to pronounce their names like it’s an SAT word. And in how everyone from Egypt is an automatic friend. (That’s a lot of friends!)
The more I think about it, the more I realize:
Being Egyptian-American isn’t a balancing act, it’s a blessing. A superpower.
I get to live two stories at once - layered, messy, and full of soul.
One minute, I’m weaving through the concrete jungle of New York, and the next, a whiff of jasmine hits and I’m back in Cairo, clinging to a cab seat with no seatbelt, just prayers and feteer crumbs in my lap.
Living in the in-between is its own kind of adventure.
It’s FaceTiming your cousins for Eid, while burning the cookies you promised to bring to the block party.
It’s craving shawerma at 2am after doom-scrolling NYC’s Top 10 late-night pizza joints.
It’s being homesick for a street you haven’t seen in ten years, and nostalgic for a future you haven’t even lived yet.
I truly love my American side with the rhythm of its city streets, four beautiful seasons, the open-armed mix of cultures, the stubborn belief that any dream is possible with enough caffeine.
And I love my Egyptian side with its endless hospitality, the music, and the way your roots always come with you, wherever you go.
Egypt never really leaves me.
It’s in my stories, the way I laugh (chest-deep and wide-open), and in the way I find myself saying "uffff" at every red light.
No matter where life takes me, whether it's Jersey (my current home), Sharm El-Sheikh (my dream home), or the edge of the galaxy (I mean, who knows?), Egypt’s packed in my carry-on.
And so is America.
Both, side by side.
Honestly?
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Made it this far? Thank you - seriously!
Now it’s your turn: what’s packed in your carry-on? Culture, food, memories?
Drop a comment below and let’s celebrate the stories we all carry. ❤️