“Times They Are a Changing” (Fall!)

Autumn in Egypt. Pshhh.

When September came and went with my airconditioner humming–no change in the weather, foods or styles, I buried my thoughts of cool fall breezes, fresh apples, sweaters and cozy boots, and embraced Cairo’s seemingly eternal summer.

After all, I can only miss macouns, pumpkins and bright leaves so much when guavas and dates are abundant and the sun never misses a beat. (OK sometimes it’s thwarted by pollution).

Yet a couple weeks ago I noticed all was not as static as I supposed.

The first thing I noticed were carts with men who roasted sweet potatoes. I wondered if they were the same men who cut and sold passion fruit all summer long.

Then, walking to work one morning, I thought the air smelled different.

Maybe it was in my head, but I caught a whiff of a scent, which in the States, I would swear without hesitation, was distinctly Autumn. I thought of piles of brightly colored leaves and children heading to primary school.

As I walked through the market, I had to admit, things has changed while I have been busy at work.

Apples, bananas, pomegranates, oranges, guavas and bright orange persimmons were everywhere and decreasing in price. Mangoes, pears, fresh dates, peaches and plums were no more. And Nadia (an RLAP coworker and friend) and I discovered  measly remnants were all that remained of our beloved figs, which we had indulged in since June.

Moze (banana) season!

(Moze (banana) season in Cairo!)

And the markets are not the only businesses changing up their stocks.

Over the last month, store mannequins have finally adjusted to resemble the appearance of the majority of women on the street–silhouettes hidden in bright layers.

Though I initially brushed the polo-style sweaters off as a silly fashion gimmick, time has already proved me wrong.

A couple weeks ago, Mufas(an Egyptian friend) showed up with a sweater tied around around his neck, superprep style. Days later, he wore the sweater over another shirt as we waited for friends outside Cairo Jazz Club.

My mom and Mufas (she's wearing a scarf to hide an immodest neckline, he's rockin that sweater)

(My Mom visited!)

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, glancing at my bare arms.  “Do you want to wear my sweater?”

“No!” I said, stoically refusing to wear such a garment when it was at least 70 degrees.

Yet a couple days later, I found myself stuffing another layer into my bag as I rushed to work and adding another sheet to my bed because I was chilly.

So a couple months later than I expected, at degrees which I’d rush for shorts and Tees at any other point in my life, I find myself excitedly donning sweaters and eyeing boots in store windows.

I only wonder how my body will feel about sub-zero Boston and NY in a few weeks….

*Fashion pictures coming*


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