September 2005-It was mid-afternoon on an excruciatingly sizzling day in the Valley of The Kings, Egypt. I was spending a few days on a Nile cruise, and each day the boat would cease for an tour of some sort. On this specific day our group boarded a shuttle van to view some pyramids and tour an alabaster manufacturing facility. The alabaster factory was the final stop of the day. The extreme warmth of the Saharan September may only be described as oppressive. The heat came from above and seemed to return from below as effectively. It simply bounced off the sandy Sahara with no reprieve in sight.
After several exhausting, albeit exhilarating, hours of incredible historical Egypt, I noticed a well-recognized and wonderful sight. Tucked away within the corner of the alabaster factory was my previous good friend, Coca-Cola. There she was, a large, stunning, purple Coke machine, and I wasted no time procuring myself a chilly one! I took my seat on the shuttle van, sipping my Coke, reading a travel information and ready for fellow passengers to take their seats. Because the van was about to set off for the cruise ship, I requested the driver to offer 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 just a small little bit of soda in the backside of the can that by then had grown heat and moderately flat. He mentioned, "No, don't throw it away, give it to them." With that, he gestured outside to a group of five small Egyptian youngsters enjoying within the dusty warmth simply past the van. I stared in complete shock as he opened the door and handed the can to one of many youngsters. I watched, horrified as they fought over the hot flat remnants of my Coke.
I'm no Marie Antoinette and this was not to be a "allow them to eat cake" moment. I grabbed my bag and advised the driver that he must give me 5 minutes.
I went straight to the Coke machine and prayed there can be 5 cans within it. Shortly I emerged with a recent full can of coke for every child. It was their turn to be shocked. Two different tour teams exploded in applause as 5 little children hugged my legs, danced around me, and chanted one thing in Arabic. I later realized that the children have been saying in Arabic that I have to be very wealthy to have the ability to give them every their very own drink. Almost a hundred British, American, and German tourists clapped, photographed, and even cried as I opened every 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 in the distance as we drove away. What I noticed were five dusty and blissful children dancing about within the sand proudly turning up their Coke cans. What I felt was large wealth. Not the kind they thought I had, but the variety you get from sharing a little something of yourself to offer another person some happiness.
To make certain, an ice-chilly Coca-Cola is more particular for me nowadays than it was.