Lebanon is that one friend whose birthday we always forget. The country celebrates 82 years of statehood today and, like every year, few people will show up to the party.

It’s olive harvesting season in Jordan, a tradition rooted in a 5,000-year-old industry that still supports the region’s inhabitants. The trees, I’ve learned, are also a symbol of Palestinian culture and resilience, regularly uprooted and destroyed by Israeli soldiers and settlers. Across the region, these trees are under siege.

I’m sitting on a felucca that was still under construction seconds before we boarded, its floor tiles hastily put back into place for our party. I look around the Nile, at the lit-up skyline of Cairo, then at my friends dancing together and whispering along the bench that runs around the boat’s perimeter. The chaos that first intimidated me is what I now miss most about the city.