Little Sister Syndrome: A Theory Proved True by the Titillating City of Alexandria

Every psychologist has his opinion on the hierarchies of birth order.

Alfred Adler was the first to propose the idea that a child’s position in the family would directly impact several distinct personality characteristics.  Later people like Freud, Carl Jung and a host of others expanded the theory. Younger siblings are pampered, older siblings have higher IQ’s, younger siblings are more open minded, older siblings more contentious, the list goes on.  But where in all of this jargon did people just study the good old fashion dynamics that intrinsically link a younger sibling to an older sibling? Amidst all of the IQ tests and personality exams, did anyone stop to look at the simplicity of what it means to just be a baby sister?

My theory is called Little Sister Syndrome and it’s certainly nothing ground breaking. If my brother had a favorite stuffed animal… I had to have a replica. My brother went out to play in the snow, I had to go out and play in the snow. My brother lost a tooth, and I started wiggling one. Simple stuff. Later on, he studied abroad during in college…and so I too felt it absolutely necessary to follow suit. And when he moved abroad to work in far off places and learn the world, I knew I would do the same. And so by default, we are two globetrotting siblings, separated by the small fact that our adventures drew us to different hemispheres, he in Asia and the middle east and I in Latin America.

And so when we found a way to have a 6 extra days to travel together after the family vaca in Egypt, I could not have been more thrilled. I’d been idolizing him since before I can remember, and now after six years of separation, I would have six days (more time than we’d EVER spent together in our adult lives), to pick his brain about his adventures, life, love, and the pursuit of happiness. It didn’t matter where we went and so when it was decided that we would pass the week in Alexandria, the famous port city of Northern Egypt, I strapped on my backpack and jumped on the bus like a five-year-old getting ready for Disney World.

Alexandria…was NOT Disney World. The first night there we were greeted by a cockroach dragging a cigarette down the cobblestone street. Perhaps we should have heeded the ill omen. 

Alexandria was built by Alexander the Great in 332 BC and finished by his successor Ptolemy. It was once home to the greatest library in the world, and the oldest lighthouse known to man. People from every Mediterranean country flocked there and settled into the unique blend of Egyptian and Greek culture adding color and diversity to the already sheik port city. The Corniche was a famous beach from the get-go. It stretched from East to West dotted with white sand and posh cafes, strewn day and night with the entwined fingers of happy couples and families. So what happened?

Was it the black plague which wiped out forty percent of Egypt’s population? Was it the earthquake of 956 which brought down Alexander’s lighthouse and the heart of the city? Or perhaps the relentless Italian air raids of WWII which leveled multiple barrios of the defenseless people and their shadily built clay homes?

To be honest I don’t know, but I do know that Steven and I were very much DONE with Alexandria within about 6 hours of arriving because that is about how long it took us to see everything worth seeing. We visited the catacombs, Pompey’s Pillar, the poor district, the posh district, Mubarak’s palace, the Muntaza gardens, and several times over, we walked the infamous Corniche. We even went to the library which was built in an attempt to replicate the masterpiece of Alexander.  So what were we supposed to do with the next 4.5 days? There were no tombs to tool, no shrines to study, no museums, no theaters, and the added bonus of Islam… there were rarely even boo’s to keep us stimulated.

Well, in the end, little sister syndrome saves all. Ultimately it didn’t actually matter that there was absolutely no viable form of entertainment because as long as we were finally on the same continent we were peacefully content. We walked the Corniche until we were tired, parked in a café, walked the Corniche some more, parked in a café, and then…. We walked the Corniche some more.

But all the while talking about the things I had longed to talk about for years. He versed me on his newly found knowledge of the Middle East answering each of my questions with his classic cynical clarity. I regaled him of my adventures with Shamans and ayawaska in the Ecuadorian Amazon. We talked about culture shock, about the future, about the past, about our family. We ranked on Alexandria, religion, trolls, and Egypt in general. Whhen there was nothing left to talk about we collapsed into comfortable exhausted silence with nothing more than our pens and journals, quietly recording our unspoken thoughts about the past weeks. 

Five days later we were on a decrepit train back to decrepit Cairo and I was putting my brother on a plane back to Saudi Arabia.

Later from my own plane’s waiting area, the airport announced the departure of flight 411 to Jeddah. It would be more than a year until we’d be on the same continent again.

But I will not soon forget how easy it seemed to pass a week in one of the most uninteresting places in the world, because, as every little sister knows, if your big brother is there, the world somehow seems lighter.