And on Sunday They Rested. It's the Sunday morning rush, as Monica and I push our way off the Metro and through hollow underground tunnels packed with people on their way to work or school. Turning another corner in the underground maze, we ascend the stairs and emerge into Midan Tahrir. A bustling circle in the heart of downtown Cairo, Midan Tahrir is packed with fancy tour buses, shabby local buses, half a million taxi cabs and a million pedestrians. Caught up in the rush, we make a right down Sheik Rihan street.
Guards check everyone's backpacks , but only find textbooks, pens, pencils and mobile phones.
The wall to the left is covered with flyers, mostly in English, announcing lectures, parties or vacant apartments. To the right is the entrance to a girls' locker room, and straight ahead is a volleyball court. I feel like I've traveled through space and time back to my college days, only with a twist of Egypt mixed in. Suddenly we don't stand out, and no one is staring at or calling to us. I look like just another student here at the American University in Cairo.