No Sink for You

Hamada and Affaf failed to tell me that the bathroom sink does not work, let alone that the reason is the busted gauge below. The only thing between my face and a jet stream of Egypt’s finest, salty water was a too-loose screw and a big rubber band hiding inside. So when I decided to get cocky and turn on the sink tonight, the screw flew off the gauge and I tasted the local water for the first time without toothpaste. Survived. But the now-broken piece of rubber that had been sneakily holding the water back before had to be replaced, and quickly because water was filling up the bathroom. With what, you ask? Malorie Winberg to the rescue. It may not be a permanent fix, but the hairband that Mal traded me before I left is holding the sink together for the night. Tomorrow, I hope my hosts will find a more durable one so I can have my memento back.

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