Our remaining time in Egypt can now be counted in hours. I'm busy with reading students essays. Soon we'll be pushing all our belongings back into the bags. Our memories will weight little but are among the most precious items we take with us.

Last night the three of us made our way out of our usual neighborhood in search of a different place to eat. We found it. The food was familiar Egyptian fare but the setting was spectacular. Sequoia, on the tip of the island of Zamelak in the middle of the Nile, gave us views of the river. We paid for an open buffet for iftar, the meal for breaking the Ramadan fast at sunset. Not one other person in the place seemed to have found it from the Lonely Planet guide book. All around us were cheerful groups seated on something like low sofas and stools around low round tables. We saw the sun fade into the water and heard the call to prayer.

Another version of this meal is the one we often observe as we walk from AUC campus to our hotel. It is served at long, low tables set up along the street. The diners gather in advance of sun-down and sit quietly with a couple of pieces of pita, some fruit, a glass of juice in front of them waiting for sun-down. One can not help but think of the guests gathered from the highways in the parable of the wedding feast.

Since I last wrote we have also been to the "north coast", to coptic monasteries, to the new Library of Alexandria and to that city about which someone noted: "it is the greatest ancient city with the least to show for it." Of course we enjoyed the day at the beach! And the monk who guided us at Wadi Natron was a fine representative of his calling. When I told him that I'd suggested to students that having a sleeping room, a room for reading and prayers, and a schedule that includes a weekend meal with like-minded people sounded good to me, he invited me to return. Don't worry though, I am coming home.

Next time you hear from us, we'll be in India!