This a refurbished version of the similarly titled post below.
A little before 4 p.m. on Tuesday I sat on a ledge across the Nile from downtown and watched a steady trickle become a rush of protesters towards Tahrir Square. A constant remark among foreigners (though an unfazing reality to most Egyptians) is how close you can be to the "action" without feeling like it. Men drank tea in front of pristinely-kept gardens and watched as protestors, including a family of four with gas masks around their necks, walked past. "Are you going to Tahrir?" I asked one of them. "God willing," he responded with a smile, "after tea."
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