S/V Tavarua

The last two days we covered the big two Cairo sights. The Egyptian Museum and the Pyramids.

Egyptian Museum - Wow, the museum displays have not been reordered since 1905. And I think some of the placards are original. There must be old Egyptologist ghosts walking among the crates in the place. What a fantastic museum. The Colossus of Amenhotep III and Tiy (his wife) are at the far end of the hall as you enter the place and as you stand before them, you feel dwarfed by their size as well as by time. We saw multiple Sphinxes larger than a Volkswagen beetle, some with manes instead of the Egyption pharaoh headdresses, many statues of pharaohs some almost lifelike in detail, original papyrus scrolls that accounted for debts and court correspondence, mummified pets (your sacred cats, bulls and alligators go to the heavens the same time you do), and an entire floor of 1700 items from King Tut’s tomb. The latter being extremely lavish. I stood pondering one of the two gold sarcophogi. This one being the innermost coffin and after a few moment the placard statement that these coffins were made with thick, solid gold became an amazement. Just how heavy were two embeded coffins? These folks had heavy lifting down to an artform.

The Pyramids - This morning was spent as such: 20 minutes walking around the Egyptian museum trying to discover where the bus to the pyramids stopped. We saw it go by twice during this time. 50 minutes standing on the street where we last saw it pass were next passed. We passed it in dollar signs leaning against a fence style. With a few grouchy words to each other about whether to take a taxi or deal with the attention of being a tourist dollar on the street, we hunkered down and decided to stick it out and wait for the bus. This entailed every taxi driver (about 100) stopping to see if would like a lift, with a few offering the pyramids for different prices, with those offers we figured we were in the correct location for the bus. Upon seeing the bus round the corner, we had a nearby young police officer take interest in us and he waved it down to stop and ushered us onto the overly crowded lurching beast. We got a great spot for the first half of the ride, pressed upon the front window with a full view of the mayhem of Cairo swooshing by us. We learned that catching the bus means just that… waving it down. Derrell claims he saw some bus stops, and there may have been but it didn’t seem to matter. The bus only stops when you wave. Along the route, we saw uniformed men practicing rapelling from the bridge over the Nile river, one large group with life jackets, one group without, all ignoring the tackiness of the Nile tourist facade that surrounded them. We saw a few donkeys, carts and bicycles among the sea of taxis, but not many. The city is amazing and people are standing and crossing everywhere in the streets with traffic flowing endlessly around them.

And our noon was spent as such: When we finally got to our destination, we ducked into the Hotel Mena Oberoi for lunch and a bathroom break. I rinsed my face and wiped it on a paper towel leaving a big black streak. I didn’t want to think how much lead I breathed this morning. We had a cafe lunch with full view of the Great Pyramid and a patch of green lawn with a few finches and doves thinking they had the best residence in Cairo. They were most likely correct. We became complete tourists, as we pulled out our camera and proceeded to take 20 pictures trying to figure out how to get one of us pictured at the table with the brightly sunlit pyramid in the distance still in focus. I don’t think we figured it out, but we amused ourselves for a bit. I think it was just a delay tactic, since both of us knew that the touts were just a heartbeat away at the Pyramid park.

And finally, the afternoon: The road is up. Those pyramids are on a hill overlooking Cairo. Heck, I envisioned a big open desert plain far away from the city with not much in sight. These things are right on the edge of the bustling city. You get a great vista of all of Cairo from the plateau. The guidebook used a recap from the writer Tony Horwitz… it’s difficult to gaze in awe at these ancient wonders with modern Egypt tugging so persistently at your sleeve. He was being literal. The touts, especially the young kids are a tugging at your sleeve bunch of salesman. We outlasted about 30 sales pitches for camel rides, horse rides, plastic pyramids, wooden carvings, special dispensation to sit on the outside of the pyramid, special openings of tombs and pictures of police on camels. Once we outlasted them, the place became quiet and peaceful. At about 4:30 they all start heading home.

My reaction to the pyramids is complete awe. These things are bigger than I imagined and the Sphinx is smaller than I imagined. We crawled down a shaft into one of the Queen’s tiny pyramids and the pyramids became even more amazing. Those entryways are steep, and those archeologists and tomb raiders must have had quite a chore pulling the goods out or just exploring the tunnels at all. It is sort of refreshing walking around the pyramids. Something that is 4700 years old, sort of makes you feel young and very much alive.

So overall, our summary of Cairo is that it is very much worth the price and soot of admission to see these amazing artifacts. The people are nice, even the pesky salesmen, the city is saturating, and the history makes it a wonderful place.

A fine day but definitely everything is different than home.

I left Derrell to fend for himself and headed down to the lobby to call the airport about my lost bag. They informed me they did have it.

From there it was a taxi to the airport. I hailed a taxi, not really a difficulty in Cairo. This consists of just standing on the street looking at your feet and every empty taxi swings by with a beep and motions you to get in. I wonder what would happen if I actually raised a hand and looked intent? Upon entry to the cab, I discover that the word ‘airport’ was not in the driver’s vocabulary. So, with lessons learned from yesterday I motioned to a guy walking down the sidewalk and he translated the destination for me. I can’t remember the word at this moment, although he helpfully repeated it several times and had me repeat it a few times. With destination in hand, we were off. Flowing down the highway, it was a silent trip and the roads were not too crowded, about 20 minutes in all. Once at the airport, we had the choice of terminal 1 (international) or 2 (domestic). Well, considering I came in from London, I chose ‘1′. What a silly choice. About 30 minutes later we were still driving around the airport, stopping at every police barrier, showing my baggage claim ticket on British Airways paper and with much conversation between the driver and the person were pointed in the correct direction. These conversations were universally punctuated with a ‘Welcome.’ and a nod to me to complete the conversation. Finally, someone was able to tell us that it was the domestic terminal that we needed. In the meantime, I saw the back alleys of the airport, about 14 police barricades that we drove through, and one 1 foot deep trough of water that crossed a busy road that we crossed very, very slowly and carefully. It is at this time that I discover that every taxi to the airport gets charged 5 pounds on exit. My driver tried to talk his way out of it, since we were at the wrong terminal but failed. He finally dropped me at arrivals at the correct terminal.

Hmm, now where to go, since my view of the airport was last from Arrivals. Over to the information desk to a lady with a large ledger in front of her, downstairs to another desk with two people with large ledgers, and into the EAS office with many people with even larger ledgers. I gave up my passport and lost baggage claim, and was then motioned to sit. 20 minutes later, a gentlemen of utmost helpfulness was there to escort the only two of us currently in the office not in front of a ledger. Upstairs we go. He left us, 20 minutes pass, he returned and left again, 10 minutes pass. Then it was through passport control with him handling two sets of two papers, passports, and the lost baggage forms, and downstairs through a backroom to the den of lost luggage. This time there were two men, one most obviously more important than the other because he had the larger ledger. There was an animated discussion with our helpful escort. We pointed to our luggage, signed one ledger, another discussion ensued, then got a long line recorded by the scribe. We then saw our luggage loaded onto the conveyor belt and turned to leave. Alas, the lesser scribe would have no part in that. We must sign his smaller ledger, too.

Now it is time for baksheesh. A small tipping protocol to get your passport back in your hand and to award the fine helpfulness of your escort. It is at this time that I find out the man with me is from Saudi Arabia and doesn’t have Egyptian pounds on him yet, but he definitely understands the concept of baksheesh. He left our escort with 5 USD thus paying my tip for me and our passports were returned to us. You wonder at these moments if you will see your luggage again, though.

Upstairs we go through the dingy hall and I see my beloved bag. Now I just need to clear customs. I warily eye the folks with the absolutely largest suitcases in the world standing at the customs table with every last ounce of belongings being removed from the bags and sorted out. They are taking this in stride and the piles are becoming huge. I step up to the table with a resignation that only two hours at an airport viewing every stairwell, back alley and ledger can gain you. But I am in luck, I am a foriegn woman, and one who had the initial opening of the bag fling my dirty clothes bag which wasn’t tied shut across the counter and therefore subsequently flung my one pair of underwear and one pair of socks across to the other inspectors table. Mayhem ensued and they motioned to me to retrieve the items and get them back into my bag. Everyone was jabbering at this point with great glee, the inspectors and all the men getting their bags inspected, and I still a bit red in the face… was on my way.

Back out to take a taxi. This time the driver spoke English and the traffic was bad. But overall, it was a fascinating discussion of wages, tourism, weather, sights we passed, our ages (he was 50 and single) and of course, religion. But I must add that I had one last ledger to sign as a passenger in the taxi at the police stop on the way out of the airport. It was a mid-size ledger, if you are curious and he was a Coptic Christian.

By the time I returned to Derrell and the hotel, I had a full day of smog, crazy driving, and Arab taxi music.

Our evening was filled with a belly dancing nightclub show that is very difficult to describe. The show started at 11 PM and was still going strong at 3:30 AM. Medina was dancing, if you could call it that. The place was filled with large groups of very smartly dressed, upperclass Egyptian women out for an evening on the town, and with Arab business men most of who had that businessman sleezy night out look about them. The food was good, the opening band was singing Arab techno and greatest Amr Diab hits, the belly dancing was not what we expected, and the star of the show wandering through the audience for special photos had the women in the audience swarming over each other and her. What a crazy world.

We walked through town after a cold nights sleep. Even with a wool blanket and bedspread and a hat on my head, my nose was cold when I woke up. Seems it is winter here in Cairo at night, even though the daytime temperatures are close to 70 degrees.

Cairo is an in-your-face city. There are belching cars, stalled cars, police, 17 million people, street stalls, billboards and small shops… everywhere. It sort of smells like a parking garage, in that tangy, burned oil, concrete sort of way.

Our first stop of the day was to pick up our tickets at the American Airlines/One World office. The address we had was the incorrect one, but with an escort to the 7th floor, then an escort to the 1st floor, a walk up a back office stairwell, a conversation with ‘Mr. Williams’ secretary, we discovered the address of the correct office. I guess having that address in my luggage wasn’t brilliant, but it all worked out.

With a known address in hand, we decided we could use some lunch before continuing on our mission. We stepped inside a Felfela take-away restaurant fully prepared to fumble our way through eating a felafel. With about two minutes in the entryway watching the mayhem, we decided maybe the sitdown restaurant around the corner would be a bit more calming. Around the corner we headed, and into the Felfela sitdown restaurant we headed. The place was relaxing but unexpected. There were vines growing, fishtanks, bird cages and tables made from old tree trunks. We were seriously grooving for some felafels, but then recalled that in Egypt they are called something else. We saw them being fried up as we walked in, but we didn’t see them on the menu. Oh, sigh. I ended up with a tomato soup with 4 kafta meatballs in it, an uncooked whole tomato in it, an uncooked hot pepper in it and a side of rice. Edible, but as usual wholely unexpected in presentation. Derrell ended up with the fatta, which consists of a piece of bread (think french onion soup consistency), covered with rice and garlic sauce with 4 lamb shank pieces laying on top. Again, edible yet unexpected. We rounded out the Egyptian meal with a can of Diet Pepsi, fresh orange juice, pita bread, baba ghanoush and a double espresso. Debated about the food and determined it wouldn’t go on our order again list, but it certainly qualified higher on the list than many a travel meal we’ve encountered. As we wandered out the restaurant we also vowed that if we returned we would ask about the falafels or whatever they are called. Pantomiming can do wonders for your diet, but it can also add quantities to your there’s-a-really-weird-tourist-in-our-restaurant column. So, next time we will be weirder.

We were immediately tackled by a tout for a Papyrus shop. With too much talk we ended up following him into the shop to get a card in case we needed to shop later. Alright, fine, whatever. But alas, when in the shop we discovered that this is a full-time, reel the customers into the shop job. There were two other sets of travelers sitting down having mint tea and getting a full-on sales job. We excused ourselves quickly back out to the street. Papyrus shop #1.

Back to our mission. Hail a taxi and take it over to the Lebnan square AA office. With a hand-written address in hand in both English and Arabic (a fine skill writing both fowards for English and backwards for Arabic, that is), we climbed in a Taxi. Oops, our driver is illiterate. We stop at the first available man in the street and he translates the address. We stop at another man and he points us towards the square. We see the first sign (street signs are in English and Arabic) pointing to the square. Oops, no read. After 15 more stops for directions, we get dropped off at the office and grouched at for not coughing up enough $ for the fare.

Taxi paying protocol is peculiar in Egypt. The meters are outdated, asking the price before you get in is rude, so you just have to ‘know’ the price. We asked at the restaurant before departing, but we didn’t know if it was per person or per taxi. Our driver was so incensed with what we offered that we doubled it and figured it was per person. Alas, no he was just scamming us. Bah. Well, it really is the difference between 7 Pounds versus 15 Pounds. At 6 Pounds to the Dollar, that still is cheaper than gracing a taxi driver with your presence for 1 block in San Francisco.

Speaking of money, our hotel is $14 USD a night with breakfast. The 5 star hotels next door have open lobbies, so we get the luxury of staying with the archeologists from Sydney, interacting with the hotel owners and getting a full Western reprieve at the hotels nearby when we need it, without the $150/night price tag. Seems business hotels are really the same price everywhere in the world. Our hotel, Garden House Hotel, is considered mid-range, not budget. That equates to our own shower, hot water (but not always enough water pressure to make the shower work), two British bed pods in the futon padding style, clean towels and sheets everyday, a very bad paint job (paint drips on the opaque windows), a sit down toilet with actual toilet paper, and an adequately clean floor with a dirty throw rug, all with plenty of lights that work. When you squint, it works. Yet upon inspection at this accomodation level, we have absolutely NO interest in exploring what a budget hotel wins you.

Mission returns, we have very pleasant experience with Omnia walking us through our tickets and assigning seats. Then it is back to the taxi ride to downtown. We overpay and leap out quite relieved to be back on solid ground. Maybe next time we will hold our ground on the price.. ah, probably not. They need every dime they can get to keep these Renaults moving. We’ve seen no less than 16 stalled cars with drivers looking under the hoods in the last 24 hours. What a crazy place.

Now for the afternoon wander. The Lonely Planet guide we have has a downtown walk to look at the architecture from the great hey-days of the city. We follow it and get pulled into Papyrus shop #2 when asking for directions to get us oriented. Of course, we are a bit more disoriented than before but we finally get straightened out.

Our walk revealed a guy pedaling through the street with a great hoola-hoop size platter stacked full of bread (yes, right through the seething mass of taxis and buses). We bought a bottle of Coke and got screeched at by the lunatic fat shop owner a block away because I didn’t return the bottle to him which in turn caused the two guys in the truck to start hollering and laughing at us. (If only we knew Egyptian Arabic.) With a slight dent in our psyches from that explosion, we wander through a market complete with live turkeys, birds and rabbits by the pound. We check out the once-great city of Cairo, but it is really, really, really, really grimy, gritty and dusty. Those buildings did have some character, but, wow!, are they ever run down. We see the cinema (subtitled) and read that folks here talk through the movies and hoot and holler at the screen, so we consider that might be a worthwhile try later. We buy two fantastic tangerines from the fruit market, walk through car part alley (outdoor stalls, as well… would you like a gas pedal?) And finally, wilt our way back to our hotel.

We rounded out the day with collecting a heater for our room from the hotel. (We tried for an extra blanket to no avail, but for only 3 extra Pounds a day we got a heater.. it works better than the blanket, so all is good in the end.) And we headed over to the Nile Hilton for a reprieve from Cairo. With a good Italian meal in us, we called it a day. A very long, gritty, crazy, lunatic, Caironese day.