Well, I've been home a little more than 24 hours. I've slept long and hard in my beloved bamboo fiber sheets, had a long, luxurious shower in my own bathroom with my favorite products, dried off with a fluffy towel (the towels in the Middle East could easily substitute for loofah), breakfasted at my beautiful copper-top bistro table, done mounds of laundry, and acknowledged that in enjoying all these things I'm somewhat of a soft American. But I'm also a proud, capable, accomplished traveler who succeeded in taking a trip unlike any I've taken previously.

I've experienced in practical ways that as an American I live very differently from others around the world. This was brought home from me in myriad ways. In one hotel a sign next to the bed reminded me not to smoke in bed. I don't think I wore a seatbelt during the entire trip. Egyptians, both in the big city and the small villages, buy raw meat that hangs (and attracts flies) by the side of the road. Yes, meat doesn't always come shrink-wrapped on a pink styrofoam tray. I tried new food and discovered that hummus in the Middle East tastes different from hummus at an English department reception in Chapel Hill, NC. I never felt unsafe, even in the big city of Cairo wandering at night in search of a restaurant. I ate cautiously and avoided mummy's tummy. I mastered brushing my teeth with bottled water and washing out clothes in the sink. (Big thanks to Joanne Farrell for the tip about soap from Dick's.) I answered to an armed guard and walked through a metal detector when I visited the University of Jordan campus. (Imagine if that's how we arrived at Champlain every day!) I observed military police everywhere -- at checkpoints on the way to the Dead Sea, on the bridges over the Nile, at all the tourist sights, in the bazaars, in huts on the roadways along which we walked to dinner. Their presence both in Jordan and in Egypt is ubiquitous. And, on a completely frivolous note, I learned that I can survive with only one pair of earrings for two weeks.

Lee wrote yesterday of seeing the burqa-clad woman rowing on the Nile as we left for the airport on Sunday morning. There were lots of pictures we couldn't take, but those are the images that will remain with me forever. I think my favorite is of the group of women we encountered by the infinity pool at the Dead Sea resort. They were dressed from head to toe in outfits that resembled black track suits with hoods that covered their hair. And yet they were at the resort -- three friends probably in their twenties -- and they went swimming. They stroked across the pool just as Lee and I had done a few minutes earlier and laughed and chatted along the edge for a while before swimming around a bit more and getting out. They seemed completely non-judgmental of those of us in modern bathing attire and completely un-self-conscious of their own appearance.

I'll remember too the children whose studied gazes we attracted. Walking in the village and riding the local ferry in Luxor, we saw so many children. They seemed particularly interested in Lee, whose hair is longer than mine and streaked with blond highlights. I wondered whether these children ever see their mothers without their veils, what we looked like to them, what they thought about as they stared so unabashedly.

On our last night in Cairo we attended a whirling dervish performance (absolutely amazing -- photo forthcoming. The man you'll see pictured whirled for thirty straight minutes before a packed crowd in astonishing heat to music that was simultaneously loud and haunting). As we sat in our seats two girls (sisters or friends -- we were never able to establish that) came to sit next to us. Their mother didn't seem to approve but allowed them to remain next to us. The bolder of the two (through some intensive cross-cultural pantomime we were able to determine that her name was Yasmin and she was nine years old) took the seat on Lee's left, smiled up at her, and immediately reached into her jeans pocket. She produced two pieces of wrapped gum, which she presented to us with no words but with a huge smile. We took the offering and initiated conversation as best we could. Mostly the two of us kept smiling at the two of them; it was an incredible experience -- a temporary friendship inaugurated with a piece of gum.

I imagine I'll be telling stories for a long time, and I look forward to getting together with the other Champlain faculty in the fall and beginning to plan how we'll translate our experiences for our students in the classroom. The Middle East is a large and complicated region, and it's important not to generalize. I'll try not to do that by remembering the individual people and their stories -- Jamal and his two veiled wives, Mosse and his bittersweet desire to leave his family and go to America, the women whose stories we don't know but whose everyday actions touched us profoundly, the children whose curiosity is universal and beguiling.

The trip of a lifetime began with the frustrating wait at BTV for an uncertain flight to JFK and ended with an unexpected 10-hour layover in JFK on the way back to Burlington. It was fun to begin the trip in the company of Gary Scudder and Al Capone and to end it with Jen Vincent -- excellent companions all. And it was invaluable to have Lee along to help process everything as it unfolded and to provide the comfort and security of the familiar in an unfamiliar place. We read Three Cups of Tea and Finding Nouf, regionally appropriate books for Middle East sojourners, we bolstered each other when spirits occasionally flagged or hasslers became too insistent, and she carried my bags when my back was bad. We talked about what we brought that we couldn't have done without (tissues and the anti-bacterial hand wipes, my hat), what we didn't need (the lightweight sweater I brought, in case the evenings were cool -- ha!) and what we'd do differently (learn more useful Arabic phrases). We became more seasoned travelers , we both grew a lot personally and professionally, and we fantasized a bit about where we might find our next adventure.

Thanks to all of you for keeping me company along the way. It's been gratifying to have this format to describe, to share, and to think through what I've experienced.

Ma as-salaamah!