Stay true to the dreams of thy youth

I love how things work in Egypt.

For the past month, Battal Ahmed Abd al-Azziz Street, near my home, has had two enormous billboards featuring the face of Shakira and advertising her Cairo concert for the end of March. Each day as I pass those signs on my way to work, I stare longingly into her eyes and wish I could see her perform. Not only do I think Shakira's music is actually really good, she‘s not half-bad to look at either.

After asking around for ticket prices, I sadly decide that I won’t be able to go. Ranging from $80 to $100, I realize I could eat beans and falafel in Cairo for a year at that price…

Fortunately, my Egyptian friends also like Shakira... so they did what Egyptians do best, work their connections. Wednesday evening I get a call from my good friend, "Meet me at the Kiosk in Agouza in 20 minutes. We're hopefully going to Shakira!!" "Do we have tickets?" "No, not exactly." "Okay, see you there."

I throw on some clothes, grab a falafel on the way to the meeting point... and the crazy night begins. My friend Mido has two cousins whose step-father is a member of the Egyptian Parliament. We meet him and his family, and slowly make our way to Giza where the concert is being held. When we are just about there, we pull over at a different house and meet another member of Parliament, whose constituency includes Giza and the pyramid's area. After some quick introductions, we work our way to the base of the famous Giza pyramids, where our Parliamentary friends assure us a smooth entry into the concert. All five of us youngsters (Can I still call myself that?) hop into the car with our security escort (after all, we are guests of the Parliament)who drives us past the long queue of cars, to the private parking lot.

The concert has already started, Shakira's incredible voice bellowing away... but the line to get in is still surprisingly long. No problem, our security escort and new best friend casually pushes his way to the front of the line with us in tow ensuring that we aren't hampered by such trivial things as lines, ticket checks and burly Egyptian bouncers.

But this wasn't just any section of the concert, this was the VIP section. Free open bar, couches overflowing with pillows, an elevated view of the stage, and random Egyptian actors and singers, only one of which I recognize. Not bad for not having tickets!
Shakira’s throaty voice bellows away for hours, an incredible performance framed by the pyramids in the background. Her incredible dance moves flow so effortlessly as she sings away in a mixture of English, Spanish, and Arabic (After all, she is part Lebanese). The crowd erupts with pleasure when she performs a song by famous Egyptian singer Om Kalsoum, and then breaks into “Hips don’t Lie.”

The show ends at 12:30 am, surprisingly early for this city which never sleeps. We pile back in the car, weave our way between the pyramids, and slowly drive our way back towards the Nile. The night’s still young. Not a bad night. It could have only been better if I'd gotten Shakira's phone number...