September 2005-It was mid-afternoon on an excruciatingly hot day within the Valley of The Kings, Egypt. I was spending a few days on a Nile cruise, and every day the boat would stop for an excursion of some type. On this particular day our group boarded a shuttle van to view some pyramids and tour an alabaster factory. The alabaster manufacturing facility was the last stop of the day. The extraordinary heat of the Saharan September might solely be described as oppressive. The warmth got here from above and seemed to come from beneath as effectively. It just bounced off the sandy Sahara with no reprieve in sight.
After several exhausting, albeit exhilarating, hours of unbelievable historical Egypt, I saw a well-known and wonderful sight. Tucked away within the nook of the alabaster manufacturing facility was my previous buddy, Coca-Cola. There she was, a large, stunning, pink Coke machine, and I wasted no time procuring myself a chilly one! I took my seat on the shuttle van, sipping my Coke, studying a travel information and ready for fellow passengers to take their seats. As the van was about to set off for the cruise ship, I asked the driving force to provide me a second to step exterior to throw away my can. The driving force gingerly took the can out of my hand and shook it calmly. There was only a small little bit of soda in the bottom of the can that by then had grown heat and fairly flat. He said, "No, don't throw it away, give it to them." With that, he gestured outdoors to a group of 5 small Egyptian children playing in the dusty heat just beyond the van. I stared in complete shock as he opened the door and handed the can to one of many children. I watched, horrified as they fought over the recent flat remnants of my Coke.
I'm no Marie Antoinette and this was to not be a "let them eat cake" moment. I grabbed my bag and told the driver that he would have to give me 5 minutes.
I went straight to the Coke machine and prayed there could be 5 cans within it. Shortly I emerged with a contemporary full can of coke for every baby. It was their turn to be stunned. Two totally different tour teams exploded in applause as 5 little kids hugged my legs, danced round me, and chanted one thing in Arabic. I later realized that the kids have been saying in Arabic that I must be very wealthy to have the ability to give them every their very own drink. Almost a hundred British, American, and German vacationers clapped, photographed, and even cried as I opened each child's Coke and handed it to them.
I wiped my eyes and climbed on board the van taking the very back seat so I could watch them within the distance as we drove away. What I saw have been 5 dusty and completely satisfied youngsters dancing about within the sand proudly turning up their Coke cans. What I felt was tremendous wealth. Not the sort they thought I had, but the form you get from sharing slightly something of yourself to give someone else some happiness.
To make sure, an ice-cold Coca-Cola is more special for me as of late than it used to be.