I traveled to Cairo in June of 1981 with my then-husband. He was busy during the week with meetings, so I would sometimes spend time around the pool at the Hilton where I met a Parisian man named John Paul. Often, my husband would come back at lunch and the three of us would eat together. After a few days, John Paul returned to Paris and a few days after that, my husband and I also flew there for a short stay. On the airline bus, stopped at a busy corner, there was John Paul right outside the window, smiling in at us. I have so often wondered what that was all about.