Explorer. Storyteller. Perpetually curious.

Hello, I'm Alaa

From the streets of Cairo to the shores of the Pacific Northwest — this is where I share the parts of my life that don't fit on a resume.

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My Story

The long version, because the short one never does it justice

I was born in Egypt, where the air smells like cumin and jasmine and where family gatherings are measured not in hours but in courses. My childhood split between Cairo's boundless energy and Alexandria's quieter Mediterranean coast, and between them I learned to love both chaos and calm.

Growing up trilingual — Arabic at home, English at school, French because my parents insisted — taught me early that the world is bigger than any single perspective. Each language opened a different door: Arabic gave me poetry and warmth, English gave me ambition, and French gave me the subjunctive, which I'm still not sure I needed.

"Home isn't a place you leave. It's a flavor you carry with you, a rhythm in your speech, a way of greeting strangers like old friends."

Today I live in Seattle with my wife and our three daughters, who are growing up with the same multilingual chaos I did — except now the breakfast table negotiations happen in three languages and the playlist jumps from Umm Kulthum to Taylor Swift without warning.

Seattle suits me. It's a city that rewards curiosity, and I've never been short on that. Between the mountains and the water, between the tech scene and the coffee shops, I've found a place that lets me be all the versions of myself at once — the technologist, the diver, the cook, the podcast host, the guy who still gets homesick for his grandmother's kitchen.

Not One Boring Moment

That's the unofficial motto. Life is too short for passive weekends. Whether I'm planning a dive trip, recording a podcast episode, experimenting with a new recipe, or reading about Ottoman architecture, the goal is always the same: stay curious, stay engaged, stay hungry — literally and figuratively.

Adventure doesn't require a passport. Sometimes it just requires asking "what if?"

The Podcast

Conversations at the intersection of everything

Part tech, part culture, part late-night conversation with a friend who's been places. I talk about the things that fascinate me — from the intersection of tradition and technology, to the stories behind the food we eat, to what it means to build a life between cultures.

Episode 12

The Art of Getting Lost

Why the best travel stories begin when you throw away the itinerary. On wandering through Tokyo side streets and what they taught me about slowing down.

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Episode 11

Kitchen Arabic

How my mother's kitchen became my first classroom. On the language of spices, the grammar of dough, and why every Egyptian recipe starts with "first, make tea."

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Episode 10

Between Two Shores

Navigating identity as an Egyptian in the Pacific Northwest. On code-switching, raising trilingual daughters, and finding home in the in-between spaces.

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Listen on: Spotify Apple Podcasts YouTube

Under the Surface

Where the noise stops and the color begins

I've been a diver for as long as I can remember. Growing up near the Red Sea, the underwater world wasn't exotic — it was the backyard. But it never stopped being magical. Descending past the reef edge, watching the blue deepen, feeling gravity trade places with buoyancy — there's nothing else quite like it.

The Red Sea's coral gardens are some of the most biodiverse on Earth. I've drifted over walls of soft coral that look like they're breathing, watched Napoleon wrasse the size of small cars cruise past with absolute indifference, and hovered over drop-offs where the continental shelf just... ends.

Diving taught me something about attention. Down there, you can't rush. You breathe slowly, move slowly, look carefully. Every dive is a lesson in presence that I wish I could bottle and bring back to land.

The reef edge at Ras Mohammed

Soft coral gardens

Blue hole, Dahab

"The ocean doesn't care about your to-do list. That's exactly why I keep going back."

Passport Stamps

Every city leaves a mark

I travel to eat, to get lost, and to collect the kind of stories that don't fit in a status update. Every country has taught me something I couldn't have learned at home.

Egypt

Home

Where it all began. Cairo's chaos and Alexandria's Mediterranean calm shaped everything I know about beauty, noise, and belonging.

Japan

Asia

Tokyo taught me that precision and warmth can coexist. Kyoto's temples showed me silence I didn't know I needed.

France

Europe

Paris in winter, Lyon in summer. The French have a word for the art of doing nothing at a cafe. I took notes.

Russia

Europe

Moscow's Metro felt like descending into an underground museum. St. Petersburg's White Nights blurred every boundary between day and dream.

South Korea

Asia

Seoul's energy is electric. Street food at Gwangjang Market at midnight was worth the entire trip.

Canada

North America

Vancouver's mountains meeting ocean reminded me that nature does its best work at the edges.

The list keeps growing. The suitcase is never fully unpacked.

At the Table

Because food is never just food

In Egyptian culture, the table is where everything happens. Deals are made, grudges are settled, love stories begin, and recipes are passed down with the solemnity of state secrets. My mother's koshari recipe has never been written down. It lives in her hands, in the way she tilts the pot, in the exact moment she says "now" for the crispy onions.

I cook the way I travel: with enthusiasm and a loose relationship with instructions. Egyptian cuisine is my foundation — the ful medames, the molokhia, the feteer — but my kitchen borrows freely from everywhere I've been. Japanese precision, French technique, Korean heat. The pantry is a geography lesson.

Koshari

Egypt's national dish. Layers of rice, lentils, pasta, and crispy onions with a spiced tomato sauce. Comfort in a bowl.

Molokhia

A green soup made from jute leaves, served over rice with a garlic-lemon punch. If you know, you know.

Feteer Meshaltet

Egyptian flaky pastry, layered with butter and a prayer. Sweet or savory, it's the ultimate weekend morning treat.

"Every recipe is a letter from someone who loved you before you were born."

Community & Faith

The work that gives everything else meaning

Community isn't something I do on the side. It's the thread that runs through everything. From delivering khutbas at the mosque to mentoring young professionals navigating life between cultures, this is the work that keeps me grounded.

I believe in showing up. In being the person who stays after the event to stack chairs. In having hard conversations with kindness. In building bridges between communities that don't always talk to each other.

Faith, for me, is a practice of gratitude and responsibility. It's the framework that helps me make sense of the world's noise, and the reminder that generosity isn't optional — it's the whole point.

Whether it's organizing community events, volunteering, or simply being a reliable neighbor, the goal is always the same: leave every room a little warmer than you found it.

"The best sermon is a life well-lived. I'm still working on it."

Currently Reading

What's on the nightstand

The Overstory

Richard Powers

"Changes how you see every tree you pass."

In the Sea There Are Crocodiles

Fabio Geda

"A story about borders, belonging, and bravery."

Sapiens

Yuval Noah Harari

"The book that made me rethink everything."

The Forty Rules of Love

Elif Shafak

"Rumi's wisdom wrapped in a modern love story."

I read widely and unapologetically — history, fiction, science, poetry, and anything with a good opening line.

Let's Be Friends

Or at least friendly acquaintances

I love hearing from fellow explorers, foodies, divers, podcast listeners, and anyone who made it this far down the page. Reach out — the virtual tea is always on.

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Thanks for scrolling all the way down. That means a lot. See you out there.