I've lost my identity - oh no it's ok, I've found it again

Two days ago, I moved to Cairo from the UK. Over the course of the last two days, and the preceding six months, I have come to realise something about myself - I'm not a natural expat. In fact, I'm not an expat at all. Those of you who know me will not be surprised to hear that I've been searching for the right word. Expat? Migrant? Emigrant? Well, I've looked in the dictionary, and I'm not any of those. Synonyms for expat include refugee, wayfarer(?) alien and pilgrim (snort!). I'm pretty sure I'm not any of those either. So I don't know what I am any more. It's a strange place to be, I can tell you.

Many, many people have commented on how brave I am and what an adventure it's going to be, what a huge risk I'm taking, how exciting it is. I don't feel brave. I did what I had to do. You see, I moved abroad for love. I didn't choose this, it chose me. Don't get me wrong - I love Egypt and I love Cairo (more on that later) but I have nothing but total admiration for people who move from job to job, country to country on a regular basis because I now know for sure that I couldn't do it. If I hadn't met my Egyptian partner, I would still be in the UK. Cairo is now my home, and if for any reason I decide that Cairo isn't my home, I'll be going back to the UK. Moving out of the UK is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, and if modern social media didn't exist, I wouldn't have done it.  

I went to the British Embassy today to register that I'm in the country (turns out this isn't actually necessary) and I got lost on the way back. Nothing could have highlighted to me more clearly that I now live somewhere foreign. Not even my own language, which is probably one of my greatest strengths, was of any use to me. When you're trying to explain to someone where you are, not being able to read the street signs is a bit of a drawback. As is not having enough credit on your phone - and at this juncture I would like to apologise to Mohamed, my step son, for the anxiety caused by ringing him, shrieking "I'm lost!!!" and then immediately getting cut off. A friendly young man obviously recognised my "lost foreigner" look (and no doubt my beetroot face) and kindly walked me back to my abode. Sigh. 

The day was rescued when I managed to buy some toothpaste (Colgate!) and also some chips (sorry but I just CANNOT call them fries) in MacDonalds. I consider these to be major achievements. On my extremely circuitous route back I also saw a KFC and a Pizza Hut. Whilst I'm not usually in favour of the homogenisation of the world, it's amazing how reassuring the sight of these things is - regardless of the fact that I haven't set foot in a fast food joint in the UK for several years.   

So, I have left behind a number of identities in the UK and no doubt I will acquire some new ones here in Cairo (in addition to "lost foreigner"). In the meantime, all the things that make me me are still here. My closest friend did a word cloud for me before I left and this gives me immense comfort now, because regardless of the identities I have lost and will gain, this is who I am. So this is dedicated to her. She knows who she is.