A few years ago, I went to Egypt on a summer Arabic study program in Cairo. That whole summer was a series of inner transformations, but the transformation of transformations occurred the afternoon I went horseback riding with three friends around the Giza pyramids.

By the middle of the summer I was advancing in my language studies, I had made Egyptian friends, and I had been warmly accepted into an Egyptian family. At the same time, I was recovering from a nasty two-week bout with Pharaoh's revenge, aggravated by high summer temperatures, urban pollution, and perennial catcalls that accompanied me on my way to class despite my modesty of dress and carriage. We planned the afternoon in the open desert as a respite from these stresses.

When we arrived at Giza, we went to the stables and hired four horses. I didn't want to tell anyone that I actually had a fear of riding. Years before, I had been thrown off a horse--twice--the second time off a bridge and into the rocky river below. As such, I requested the gentlest of horses that the stable owner had, and he in his begrudging, worn-out-by-the-tourist-trade manner gave me the least. Unfortunately, this was a fact I didn't discover until we were well and away, and I strained to keep the horse from turning back and galloping toward the stables. After a lot of coaxing and steering, I finally forged forward with my friends into the desert sands that surround the pyramids.

With the horse's edgy pace, as the loosely placed scarf on my head began to slide off, my heart worked its way up into my throat and got stuck there. I knew the horse could feel my fear. When we made a rightward sweep, toward the largest pyramid and the Sphinx, the horse suddenly bolted and ran straight toward the stables a mile away. We were on top of a sand dune, so, a rapid drop accentuated the wicked gallop. On first instinct, I closed my eyes, which was a bad idea: I began to loose balance and slip off the saddle. So, I opened my eyes and clung fiercely to the reigns and the horse's mane. He increased his speed.

But then, when my terror reached its critical level, I strangely shifted into a surreal state of awareness. The sand dreamily whipped above the horse's hooves. The grand beauty of the Sphinx, golden in the lowering sun, swam by. I become one with that glorious scene in the movie Lawrence of Arabia when the horses come galloping over the dunes, robes flowing in the wind, sand and hooves in an intimate dance of flight. Sand everywhere. Floating.

Exhilarated, the horse and I arrived at the stables. We were joined by the others moments later, their horses following my horse's cue. It seemed I had gotten the pot-stirrer horse and the other horses took his lead.

As the sun set below the pyramids, with sand on our brow, we went to the nearby teahouse and drank strong tea and played rounds of backgammon. Sitting in the deep relaxation that followed my adrenaline rush, I quietly celebrated the feeling of strength born from conquering an old fear.

On my way home to my apartment in Garden City that evening, I picked up a container of kosheri from a cookery kiosk near my home.Kosheri is something of an Egyptian version of Hungarian goulash, but entirely vegetarian with lentils and rice. When I sat down to eat, I realized I'd left something out on the desert. Not only had my head scarf finally flown off and whipped away, but my fear went with it. Somewhere out there in the desert sands, it blew about, found nowhere to descend, and evaporated with the setting sun.

The kosheri tasted terrific. Here is my version of the dish.

(Serves 4)
2 cups brown rice
2 cups lentils
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon butter
1 medium onion, finely chopped
Salt and black cracked pepper to taste
6 cloves of garlic, finely minced
4 large tomatoes, cubed
1 small can tomato paste
Juice from 1 lemon
2 scallions/green inions, thinly sliced at a diagonal

Cook the lentils in a pot with 4 cups of lightly salted water. Likewise, in another pot cook the rice in 4 cups of lightly salted water.

In a large sauteing pan, heat the olive oil and butter on medium-high and add the onions with a pinch of salt to taste and some cracked black pepper. Sautee the onions until they reach a clear consistency. Add the garlic and then the cubed tomatoes, followed by the tomato paste. Dilute the pan's mixture with two cans of water using the tomato paste can. As it comes to a boil, lower the heat to the lowest setting and add the lemon juice.

When the lentils and rice are cooked, arrange each in alternating layers of rice, lentils, rice, lentils, in a large serving dish. Gently pour the tomato sauce over the rice and lentil layers. Finish by sprinkling the green onions on top.

While Egyptians are a Muslim majority nation whose majority generally do not drink alcoholic beverages, Egypt nevertheless produces beer (mostly blond) and varieties of wine. I think a Stella Artois beer would be perfect with kosheri. It certainly would have tasted good after my harrowing horseback ride.