We rode from Cairo to Alexandria, Egypt in a minivan crammed with luggage, four other students and a driver. Most of the riders were near a third our age. There was an atmosphere of camaraderie. The land resembled the Central Valley of California: dry, dusty, criss-crossed by canals and densely covered by crops under cultivation. We saw peaches, palms, dates, melons and many other plants we could not identify from the road. Every couple miles or so, tall structures---usually in pairs---would appear. They resemble up-turned pointed honeycombs more than anything, except most are at least twenty feet tall and ten feet across at their base. It took us a while to figure out they were giant birdhouses, and we guessed the masses of birds attracted provide pest control for the fields. The scenic and jovial atmosphere came abruptly to an end when we entered Alexandria, Egypt, whose outskirts are populated by seriously poor people, living in buildings that seem to have survived a recent air raid. The shops and streets show extreme dust and grime; there is very little pavement visible; everywhere piles of rubble are inexplicably piled up and there is sand, sand, sand. The entire city seems to be under construction. Or destruction, depending on your point of view. Upon reaching our lodging we find our streets dug up from end to end to install sewer and water mains. In each direction there are sand dunes, piles of bricks, debris, trash and garbage, horse and donkey carts, and taxis---hundreds of them---honking and speeding through the dirt. You find only an occasional sidewalk in our neighborhood and are surprised that little bit of clear pavement becomes a comfort to you. Our promised "clean and comfortable" accomodations are neither and we wonder whether this part of our plan has any hope of working out. Our lavatory sink drain runs out onto the floor; there are mosquitos in the bedrooms at night and cockroaches the size of field mice in the kitchen. My traveling companion after two nights is eaten up in bed by other, microscopic and therefore unidentified bugs. The only clean, cool, reasonably quiet place to eat in the entire neighborhood is strange enough: McDonald's. They serve a McArabia sandwich that is actually quite tasty and have Coke with ice made with clean water. The rest is a food wasteland. There is not one other inviting, clean, well-ventilated cafe within ten miles, and we are in a beach resort area supposedly popular with Egyptian tourists. We are afraid we will either starve or be bitten to death or die from lack of proper rest: the cement mixers, heavy digging equipment, and sledge hammers start work at dawn and go on sometimes till dark.