Someone aboard one of the boats calls out in Arabic, whether to me or to the other boat I cannot tell, and the boats pass very close to one another. I do not understand Arabic. The city's lights reflect on the river's surface, and smog hides the stars. I realize the sailboat's sail is slack and that it too is driven by a motor. I withdraw my hand from the Nile and go back up the stairs to the street.
Cars stream by, crowding together, constantly honking.
In Cairo the drivers accelerate madly into any opening they find. They brake suddenly, inches apart. The roads are potted, and the dotted traffic lines are faded and ignored. Pedestrians take their chances. The city's few traffic lights are indistinguishable dots on the edges of a sea of fuming, blaring vehicles.