Why I travel...

I got a shave in one of Islamic Cairo’s small storefront barber shop. My self-appointed guide and translator, the man I met on the street to whom I told I wanted to get a shave, led me through the rabbits warren of old streets, past kebab shops and market stalls, walking at an almost-trotting pace. We got to the barber shop, where he proudly showed me into a chair next to man with a moustache that showed he knew where to get good barbering. The middle aged little barber produced a razor and went to work. My guide, Mohammad, reassured me “don’t worry, these are good people. They will not kill you.”

One more interesting note about that barber shop – as I was being worked upon, I carried on a loose conversation with the workers and hangers-on, with Mohammad translating. I told them I was American and they immediately responded with an “Obama!” exclamation and a thumbs up. They had been following the election. But interestingly, when I told them that Obama was a muslim and that his middle name was Hussein, they reacted with surprise and pleasure. I myself was surprised that the rumour of Obama’s Islamic terrorist roots hadn’t make it to the Islamic world. I am please to have brought it.