Poem: Questions of Travel

I love Elizabeth Bishop's poem "Questions of Travel."
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Questions of Travel

The doctor surprised me,
young, no-nonsense, hair in a bun,
black steel and angled.
She did not blink.
Her questions carve
turkey for Thanksgiving dinner.
This woman could take call like Scheherazade,
live in a hospital and crave nothing else.

I needed vaccinations for Egypt,
a land of hieroglyphics, Nefertiti,
and pharaohs in sealed tombs, as if
the country produced nothing but history and historians.
Oh, how it surprised me when I saw
cars rather than camels traveled the roads
and hotels were not shaped like clay pyramids.
How it surprised me when I asked
the doctor Questions of Travel
instead of the sterile and rehearsed,
she recited Elizabeth Bishop's poem,
eyes closed, lips deliberate in rapture, anticipation.