Blog 4 Luxor

My train to Luxor arrived promptly at 9 PM. I found my way to cabin number 17 and was greeted by a small, smiling Chinese man named Raymond who was, unbeknownst to me going to be popping in and out of the rest of my trip through Egypt. Raymond spoke limited English and laughed like a sensei in a 1970’s kung-fu movie, if you don’t know what I’m talking about you should watch more kung-fu. I thought him a very strange and funny man, and I’m sure that the feeling was mutual. First off, I felt it necessary to explain to him that the three bags I was lugging around weren’t out of excess on my part but because I was going to be living in Amman, Jordan for five months after my trip through Egypt. He laughed and said that he had been away from his home in China for 3 months and he only brought four changes of clothes and a toothbrush in one tiny backpack. In the three months that he had spent in the ME Raymond had only liked one thing, which I think from his explanation, was a Sufi mosque in Syria. Everything out side of men in dresses and strange hats twirling around in circles while on lookers cried at the sight had failed to impress the 40 year old securities broker.  He didn’t seem bitter about not liking anything else, maybe it was just the language barrier but he was the most matter of fact person I’d ever met. When dinner came it was coffee, yogurt, and three pieces meat, strategically burnt so bad that it was impossible tell if you were eating veal or cat. I quickly ran out of things to talk about with Raymond, so we retired to our separate bunks. Every bit of energy had been sucked from my body and it took seconds for me to fall asleep.

I woke at about 6 AM the next morning to the sun rising over the fertile Nile valley. The world outside my window was so removed from the chaos of Cairo that I felt as though in my sleep I’d travel back in time 100 years. Not a whole lot has changed in that part of the world. From what I could see the whole length of the river is populated. I’m sure that there isn’t a single mile between Cairo and the Sudan that isn’t being harvested for every bit of resources that the alluvial soil will provide. Men and women transported goods by donkey, little herds of sheep wandered down dust village streets unattended, and Egyptian children swam in the river and its irrigation cannels. I watched it all pass by the train window as I ate another three pieces of blackened meat for breakfast.

I arrived in Luxor at about 8:30 and was immediately surrounded by a wave of men tugging at my bags trying to do anything for me that would warrant a few Egyptian pounds. However, after my experiences in Cairo I had become, for like of a better term, an asshole and refused virtually all assistance for the rest of my trip. Not sure were my hotel was I sat in front of the Luxor train station and examined my travel guide, trying to orientate myself. As I was about to start my trek toward the hotel, which was about a twenty-minute walk from the station, a man approached me and asked, “Nefertiti Hotel?” That being the hotel I’d made reservations with and knowing approximately were it was supposed to be, I followed the guy. He of course didn’t work for my hotel and tried to get me stay at his naturally much cheaper and more luxurious establishment. I asked him why he had lied to me. He apologized and walked me the rest of the way to the Nefertiti. On the way there we stood at a street corner for fifteen minutes as a funeral procession passed us by. I don’t know if that was a normal occurrence but a group of about 50 Arab men chanted as they moved through the city blocks carrying a coffin on their shoulders draped in a large black cloth with beautiful dark green Arabic script decorating it. I safely arrived at my actual hotel with the help of my new friend and managed to make it to my room after an hour of listening to the man working the front desk gush about his newly born daughter. The pictures were cute, but it was fucking hot and my room mere steps away, had AC. I dropped off my things and decided to wander about town a bit, half way looking for the international student travel office were I was supposable able to get an ID card that would grant me “unspeakable” discounts on sites according to Raymond. 

The streets of Luxor are quite different from those of Cairo. Aside from the fact that there are millions less people, the city of Luxor is so unprotected from the vast desert that stretches out on either side of the Nile that little piles of sand build up around everything. I can only assume that, minus the one McDonalds, cities have looked more or less just like Luxor all across Arabia for centuries. I meandered down side allies, not of the three feet wide variety found in Cairo, but ones wide enough that the donkey carts of many generation could pass though them. During my time spent exploring I saw maybe two other tourist in what is often considered the number one tourist city in the country. It was off-season and for good reason. The temperature that day had inched up to 120 F. However, I had become somewhat accustomed to it and with plenty of water and sunscreen I made the best of the empty streets. Some houses were vividly painted in pastels of blue, green, and red while others showed the wind lashed scars of the desert. On a disturbing note, the district dedicated to the selling of meat had shop after shop with their products, often the full carcasses of cows or freshly plucked and bleed chickens, on display in the withering heat. The whole street stank of death and dried blood, but the flies seemed to like. I never ate with impunity though, it being Ramadan I had to take what I could get and luckily I didn’t once get sick. I finally stumbled across the student travel office and was pleasantly greeted by Raymond who was diligently trying to convince the receptionist that although he was 40 and didn’t have a school ID he was in fact studying whatever from wherever. It worked and both Raymond and I left the office satisfied with the fact that we would be receiving 50% discounts on everything the rest of our trip. So, with that going for me I was off to Karnak.

The temple complex of Karnak is an absolutely massive site that, for me, was more interesting then the pyramids. The reason I say that is at the pyramids it’s impossible to picture what an ancient Egyptian might actually do at them. They are these huge piles of stones that at one time had some died bodies in them. Amazing as they truly are they give you little insight as to how this civilization might have actually functioned. However, at Karak you can walk the colonnades of ancient Thebes and explore the countless arteries of the administrative center of the Middle Kingdom. While feeling dwarfed by the massive walls and pillars it’s easy to image the most powerful nation of its time governing from those halls. And the best part is amidst all the pomp and grandeur is, at least to the modern visitor, humor. And particularly of the penis variety. Countless walls are adored with erect leaders confidently going about daily business unclothed and quiet excited. There are also midgets, apparently revered in ancient Egyptian society for their short stature and penis hats. This along with little statues of baboons everywhere just gave the whole place an air of lightheartedness. However, since there was virtually no shade in the entire facility I was forced to see the sight in haste. After about an hour and a half I was ready for a nap.

I woke at the 7 or 8 PM and headed across the street to the Temple of Luxor. At one time an imperial walk way ran North/South connecting Karak and the Temple of Luxor and East/West connecting them both to the Temple of Queen Hatshepsut. Luxor Temple was more or less the same thing as Karnak except not quiet as grand. However, unlike Karnak, which is lit up at night like a scene from Tron or a Pink Floyd concert, Luxor Temple is tastefully illuminated, casting shadows across the ancient stones and recreating what torch light might have done to the sight thousands of years ago. However, after an hour or so I left, admittedly more excited for my first skype date with Alex then anything else.

The next day I got up early and headed off on my first guided tour in Egypt, the West Bank. In Luxor the main city and all the hotels are located on the East Bank of the river, while the West Bank remains predominantly agricultural and poor. It has been organized in this fashion since Egyptian times because life and success was associated with the raising of the sun and death with its setting in the West. So with that dualism in mind the ancient Egyptians also set about burying their dead in the mountains and valleys that extend form the Nile to the Sahara. First stop, the Valley of the Kings. After a good dinner, conversation with the girlfriend, and a comfortable nights rest I was ready for the sights, however, this couldn’t be said for the six or seven hung over French 20 somethings that were also on the group. As they looked for every opportunity to sit down in the shade I ran after the tour guide who was, at least at the beginning of the day, more excited to see things then I was. The major sights in Egypt are quiet developed and as you enter the valley a silly trolley is there ready to escort you up to where the burial chambers begin. However, as this vehicle moves up the valley you see that it not only serves the purpose of hauling tourist too lazy to hike, but also to indiscriminately plow through the swarms of souvenir salesmen in waiting. Each visitor is only allowed to view three tombs a day and no pictures are allowed, but despite this the experience was amazing. Made even better by the fact that the tombs are a good 15 degrees cooler then outside. Each cave is set up, more or less, in the same fashion, Ramses II being the grandest. You walk in an initially small tunnel decorated on both sides with scenes from that particular rulers life. Then the tunnel opens up to a large room with detailed wall carvings and statues, often still colored as they first were 3,000 years ago, preserved by the total lack of humidity. Then back into another small tunnel this time with scenes depicting gods and a hopeful blueprint for the ruler’s afterlife. Finally, ending in the largest room with an absolutely massive stone sarcophagus that has been chiseled from the mountain and remains attached to the ground but rising up 10 or 12 feet.

After the Valley of the Kings, our group was off to the Temple of Queen Hatshepsut and the Valley of the Queens. The Temple of Queen Hatshepsut is a massive structure entirely cut out of the side of a mountain. It is the burial place of one of Egypt’s most controversial rulers, which is illustrated by the giant statues of a woman with a strap on beard. Queen Heptashut ‘s son felt that he had been cheated out of numerous years of pharaohness by his mother and therefore went about trying to erase her name from the sight and Egyptian history in general, failing quite miserably. Nevertheless, the temple is really amazing with an immense stairway dividing the structure into three different levels. However, the whole thing is made less memorable by the degree to which it is restored. Although, it was refreshing to see a sight restored to something resembling what it might have looked like in ancient times. The archeologists took great liberty reassembling the structure and might have gone to far with many pillars and walls cemented to perfection.  Finally, the Valley of Queens, as one might expect, was similar to the Valley of the Kings except on a smaller scale. However, the painted scenes in many of the tombs were better preserved then their more famous counterparts and lack of fellow tourist made the place rather refreshing. However, by this time it was about 2 in the afternoon and well above 120 degrees. Our tour guide being a good Muslim had not ate or drank so much as a sip of water all day and collapsed in the sand as we were walking back to the van. The driver told us it was ok and we left him unconscious in the desert.

Actually, we didn’t really leave him there to die but he did pass out and two guys and myself had to haul him back to the van where he finally came to during the ride back to our hotels. I was completely exhausted by the time I got back to Luxor, but I unfortunately didn’t have a room to nap in because is was heading to town called Dahab, which means gold in Arabic, in the Sinai Peninsula that evening on a bus. So, I was once again faced with dragging myself and all my shit through the scorching sun. I quickly tired of this and went to the bus stop two hours before I was to leave. In a little shwarma restaurant that over looked the bus stop I meet two 25 year old German guys who were making their way by motorcycle from Cape Town South Africa all the way back the Germany. They said that most nights they simply slept in a tent on the side of the road, and I believed them by the look and smell of their clothes. Little encounters like this constantly reminded me throughout my trip that although I was staying in 5 USD a night hotels in Egypt, I was far from sleeping on the side of the road in the Sudan. My bus came, surprisingly, on time. However, unsurprisingly there weren’t enough people to fill it so we were moved to a different bus that looked like those prison transportation vehicles you see in movies based in the 30s and 40s. Sort of like a yellow school bus that had spent most of its 50 years of existence transporting dirt and had at one time caught fire or something. Needless to say it was uncomfortable, but an adventure non-the-less. And finally, as the bus was leaving the station, who else but that little smiling Asian came running and pounding on the windows. Almost missing another opportunity to enjoy my company on a cross Egypt trip.     

                              

Cairo 2

A summer’s day in the ME must be experienced in stages.  I woke up from a nap at 9 PM after my first day of exploration. Sweat-drenched clothes become freezing in an AC world. Since I had to leave Cairo the following evening on a “midnight train” to Luxor I though I should experience some Ramadan nightlife before I left. I must admit I was scared to go out by myself at night in a metropolis that I barely knew. But the second I turned the corner out of the alley which housed my hotel I walked into a world of light and life. I’ve never seen a city so alive. Families, creeps, groups of teenagers, and every other demographic washed over sidewalks and cars flooded the streets, but no one was really going anywhere. The metal panelings that protected the glass of family storefronts in the daytime were rolled back. Merchandise spilled out from each door and shops competed for attention with a mixture of neon and Christmas lights. Those guys that I’d seen with their tarps and cardboard boxes earlier in the day had quadrupled and fought for every available inch of space. The smell of shwarma, sweets, popcorn, and incense met me at ever turn as I penguin walked shoulder to shoulder with an entire city down winding allies. I’ve never felt so un-alone. They were indulging themselves after a day of neglecting the body of every human need water, food, and, in the case of just about every Egyptian, cigarettes. I ate Kosheri, an Egyptian dish that consists of rice, macaroni, garbanzo beans, spicy sauce, and crispy onions. It sounds weird and is weird but I found myself eating it time and time again during my trip. At about 12:30 I wanted to go back to the hotel because I planned on getting up early the next morning but had no clue where I was. I asked some random teenager for directions. He refused to give them to me but instead grabbed me by the hand and walked me four or so blocks delivering me safely to my home away from home. Arab culture is an excise in opposites.

Day 3 I thought I’d beat the heat and crowds at the pyramids by getting there early in the morning. My lonely planet travel guide assured me that taking the bus there was a real possibility, but failed to explain that the concepts of bus schedules, stops, and routes are not in the Cairo transportation vocabulary. So, I’m standing outside of the Museum waiting for a red bus with a white circle. Two of them pass by what I thought was a bus stop at the same time. Five minutes later another one passes. Fifteen minutes later I see one going the opposite direction. After another ten or so minutes I saw what I was determined to be my bus approaching. I waived my arms. I yelled. It kept going. Thirty seconds later another red bus stopped, I checked for the white circle and hopped on, paid an equivalent to 20 cents, and was off to the pyramids. However, the first thing I though when I sat down was, “these guys don’t look like tourist,” so I asked the guy in front of me with the giant bag of flat bread, “does this bus go to the pyramids?” He shook his head yes so I sat back and experienced my first urban slum. Forty-five minutes later the bus stopped and the driver shooed me off and I’m standing in a world that my Western concept of living couldn’t possibly compute.  This defiantly wasn’t the Giza Plateau. I thought I’d survived the dirty and poor aspects of one of the world’s dirtiest and poorest cities upon my arrival. And after some acclimation and perception adjustments I began to write it off as “not-so-bad.” But, this was something different, this was human waste un-attended, this was dying cats everywhere… everywhere, this was a world of refuse. There were a lot of people there and they were all staring at me, all of them on both sides of the street, with a look that said, “you definitely don’t belong here.”  I wanted to run and I did, the first taxi I saw drove me off to resume my vacation. And I felt like a very small person. Arab culture is an exercise in opposites.

The pyramids were slightly tainted after all of that but I still enjoyed them thoroughly. They are immense and they are very old. Armed soldiers stand guard at every corner and are quick to start screaming at my fellow Americans who decided that the “DO NOT CLIMB” signs were referring to the signs themselves and not the ancient monument that they were attached to. Everyone that has visited the pyramids has something to say about the touts and pestering entrepreneurs that swarm tourist of all nationalities. And I do too… these guys are ridiculous. One kid grabbed my hat from off my head and ran off toward some small ruins. I followed him determined to get it back and luckily he promptly stopped affront some dusty hole next to a pile of stones as quickly as our chase had begun. This kid then proceeded to pitch me his 10 EGP tour of the pharaohs’ real tomb. I grabbed my hat from his hand and walked off to confront my next scam. Although it’s extremely annoying to be haggled for a camel ride or private tour and picture at every turn it’s also quite an amazing thought that most of these people come from families that have been doing this for hundreds if not thousands of years.  So with that in mind I tried to maintain a smile on the inside because wearing one on my face would have attracted even more unwanted attention. I stood in front of the sphinx and I starred up at the colossus’ of the ancient world. Although, I battled my way there alone, inside the grounds I moved in swarms of tourist and for the first time in Egypt I really felt like one. So, I decided to leave.

I didn’t want to spend the money on another taxi ride because the pyramids are a really really long ways away from downtown Cairo. So, as stupid as it may sound, I tried the bus again. However, this time my decision turned out better. Although, the bus broke down and it took nearly two hours to get back to my hotel, I met Mahmud, a civil-engineering student at the American University of Cairo who explained to me life in an Islamic society better then any class or book could ever hope to do. His father wasn’t rich but had enough to ensure that his eldest son could go to a private and fairly expensive university. He decided to study engineering because like me he could see that with Cairo’s ever expanding population it was on a collision course with an infrastructural meltdown. However, what sounded to me like a fail-safe career plan was in fact just simply a roll of the dice in Egypt. Mahmud liked to explain things in metaphors, in perfect English none-the-less, saying that to live in Cairo was like being a stone piece on a chessboard. A person can fool themselves with intentions and life plans but the invisible hand, made up of the city or Allah or history, was the true mover of things. All he said a person could do was enter a door and hope that when you exit on the other side you’re at a place better than where it was that you started. This concept was hard to comprehend within the framework of my Western ideals of the self-made man were hard work and determination are the only ingredients necessary for success. You know Uncle Sam’s catch phrase. But, here was a kid my age fluent in English and Arabic about ready to graduate as an engineer and he was considering starting a taxi route a couple nights a week. Needless to say as a 23 year old with limited Arabic and to be honest questionable spelling and grammar in my native tongue studying liberal arts, I once again that day felt the sting of privilege. I asked him about Mubarak, Nasser, and thoughts on the future and he explained that after hundreds of years of imperialism followed by fifty years of socialism, virtually all opportunities found themselves manifest in either the government or transnational industries. This meant that the only people making money were foreigners, people who find favorable positions in the government, and some working in tourism. He also expressed concern about an ever-increasing conservatism that Egypt had been experiencing over the past few decades. In his opinion, this was due to the fact that groups supporting Islamic revivalism had been able to provided many of the welfare services needed by the city’s poor. While the state failed to offer neither support nor opportunity. Choosing to spend national revenues stemming from local production and international aid on expanding a military that was used more often then not to protect the ruling class from politically minded citizens then citizens from any external threat. The way he saw it, millions of young people across the whole of Egypt lay in wait for a single spark to ignite them in the name of some as of yet unheard call. So yeah that was one of those life changing conversation. But I jumped off the bus a briskly as I had gotten on.

Instead of going back to the hotel for a much-needed nap before making my way to the train station I tried to visit Al-Azhar mosque in Eastern Cairo. After getting off the bus I rode the metro as close to the sight as I could and then hopped into a taxi. As we drew near the mosque the streets began to clog with pissed off looking people. My taxi driver said, “you no go to mosque today you go to a different mosque.” At first I thought this guy was just trying to drive me around for a few extra bucks, so I was resistive, “I don’t think so buddy, I want to go to Al-Azhar.” But, after he said, “I won’t drop you off. I take you back no extra charge.” I realized that the increasingly large mob was the reason for his concern. Later that night at the train station I learned that the Israel police had shot an allegedly unprovoked Palestinian in the West Bank and those Palestinians living in Cairo were out expressing their despair.

At this point I only had two hours to gather my things and be at the train station so I headed back to the hotel and checked out. During the taxi ride to the station I saw Arab generosity in full effect as every mosque I pasted had lines of poor people breaking the evenings fast for free. This was that communal support that Mahmud suggested was utilized by Islamist organizations for support, for better or worse the future will tell I guess. I found my platform at the station and had a little time to just sit and think about everything that I’d experienced over the last few days. However, I found this to be quite difficult because no matter where you are in Cairo you are submerged in sound. It bounces off everything and works its way into the stones buildings. The sun and the sand are the same way. Actually, that is the defining essences of the city, once your there you can't escape it. It takes from you things that you never intended to give and stays with you for better or worse. I was happy to get on the train heading South into a totally different Egypt. 

Cairo 1

So, as I’m being driven off by my first Egyptian friend who, at this point, I’m sure is taking me to the bowls of some construction site in order to dismember me slow beneath a photo of Moosavi Khomeini I think to myself, “oh my god. I step out of the airport and into the Middle East and I’m going to be some depressing headline back home in less then 24 hours.” Of course this was pure naivety on my part, he simply wanted to rip off a stupid American. When I insisted that I wasn’t going to pay him 200 USD and he finally believed me, I found myself dumped on the side of some Cairo underpass. After close to 24 hours worth of traveling this was the last place I hoped to find myself with a seventy pounds of luggage. I proceeded to drag my ass through the fever that is 2 PM in Egypt, back to the airport with all my stuff, insistent on taking a bus this time. However, waterless I quickly realized that that wasn’t happening. So, out of pure desperation I flagged down another taxi. This time I decided to go with pissed off and stern, “how much to Mustafa Khamil Square,” I said in English being thoroughly done practicing my Arabic for the day. “I don’t know, I have meter” the taxi driver replied. Having no interest in really ending up beneath that photo of Khomeini or getting totally ripped off I repeat, “how much?!” “About 20 minutes from here… maybe 12USD.” So, I smile put my bags in the back seat and let the sun melt me into the plastic covered passenger seat of Khalid’s taxi.

I watched my first view of the Middle East whirl past me in a near sun stroked daze as Khalid asked, “you have habibati jamila, beautiful American?” “As pretty as the come” I replied. We go back and forth in a half Arabic half English conversation that, to my surprise, allowed for some decent discussion. As terrifying as my first taxi experience was this was calming.

Unfortunately, Khalid wasn’t familiar with my specific hotel so I had him drop me off at a traffic circle two blocks from the Pension Roma. And even more unfortunately, I walked two blocks in the wrong direction and in turn four back in the dirtiest and most dilapidated place I’d ever seem. But, Al-humdu Allah or thank God I finally arrived before the rickety old elevator, circa 1920, which took me to the fourth floor were my hotel was. At this point I’d been awake for like 36 hours and was about to collapse. I’ll I could think was, “if this place isn’t legit, I’m going to the closest five star hotel and blowing as much of my study abroad money as necessary to sleep, in a room with a bed and more important then either of those two things, AC.” Luckily, the place was great, the receptionist was a kind old French lady who gave me a liter of water and showed me my Spartan but perfect room. I took off my clothes, blasted the AC and collapsed.

Day 2 in Cairo and although I was excited to get out and see what I had come to see, I must admit it took a little self convincing to walk out of my air conditioned sanctuary and into the madness. I ate the free breakfast at the hotel, baby steps. Bread with fig jam, a hard-boiled egg, and coffee was all I got and was somehow the standard by which every hotel/hostel in Egypt operates. After, finishing I stocked up on water and headed out to Ramses Train Station in order to book a sleeping train ticket which would take me too Luxor in a few days. I did this first because I thought, after the “intricacies” of my arrival, an established way out of Cairo would allow me to enjoy my experience a little more. I left the hotel at what I thought was 8 AM but what turned out to be actually 7, because German flight attendants don’t understand Ramadan which pushes the clocks back in the ME an hour. I expected to find the same pulsing mob of my arrival but was pleasantly greeted by empty streets. I guess no one is particularly anxious to begin a long, hot day of fasting and I don’t blame them. I had decided over my hard-boiled egg that I was going to figure out the metro system, which is extensive and invaluable, if your going to avoid taxi drivers whenever possible. The first time I went to buy a ticket the attendant took my 5EGP note and gave me my ticket. He had of course, sticking with the theme of Egypt, ripped me off because after some further observation I realized the really price was 1 EGP. The price I paid the rest of my stay. You get screwed and you learn, Egyptians proved to be great teachers in that way. Anyway, I rode the subway a few stops with a bunch of sweaty Arab guys before jumping off at the metro stop next to the station.

As I came up the stairs, I found myself in a busy park across the street from Ramses and a beautiful towering mosque. However, the wonder of it all was slightly offset by the poverty that encircled it. Children and elderly alike were sprawled out across the grass. Groups of younger boys were huddled together trying to stave off another day of the heat and hustle. Those that were awake were trying to hawk cheap clothes and sunglasses from their business fronts that consisted of either a tarp or large piece of cardboard which could be easily dragged, I suppose, to another street or corner of the park deemed more affluent or profitable. Occasionally I’d see some guy running full speed down the street dragging his merchandise behind him.  

The sleeping train office opened at 9 and unfortunately I ended up with an hour and a half wait after finding out the actual time from the old man selling newspapers outside the train station. So I wandered. It was time spent doing this that I found out the most about Egypt, not at the pyramids or museums but in the streets with the people who are doing real things. So, in this hour of wandering I learned that in Egypt “under construction” means broken and likely to stay that way. Stairways are missing steps, which simply crumble under the tide of 20 million people’s lives. Road signs fade in the sun and are useless anyway because unless you live there you’re not navigating the maze by street names anyway. Even the train station that, according to my guidebook, is a flawless melding of Islamic and industrial architecture has piles of rumble lounging around out front of it, leftovers from some previous construction project.

The reservation office opened 30 minutes late and the attendant informed me that Abela sleeping trains wouldn’t accept my newly exchanged Egyptian pounds but wanted US dollars from all foreigners. He suggested I find an ATM. So, I walked around for another half an hour until I located one, only to find out that all ATMs in Egypt give EGPs not USD. And since it was Friday all banks would be closed for exchange until Sunday. I headed back to the train office with my explanation worked out in Arabic. However, this time the same man made no reference to USD, allowing me to pay in EGP no problem. This is Egypt. By this time its 11 AM and 100 degrees, so I decided to start my sight seeing at the Egypt National Museum, which I wrongly assumed was air conditioned.

The museum is the first building I encounter not “under construction.” It’s massive and a beautiful red color with a garden to greet the massive swarms of tourist out front of it. The staff allows you to take just about anything you want inside, except for a camera, which you are forced to check at some shady office. When I went to give the attendant my camera I asked, “how much?” And was meet with the response, “whatever you want to pay.” At this point I’m thinking, “I want to pay however much is necessary to get back my camera back.” But there is a massive line behind so I give 5 EGP and remind the guy that I need number.

When you first walk into the museum your greeted by an absolutely massive statue of Ramses II and his wife, which rise up at least three stories. The lay out of the whole place is supposedly chronological. This is only half true because the massive amount of items result in something more like an overwhelming heap of history. I loved it. I wandered by myself, with no guide and found some items described in English while others remained a mystery in French, Dutch, German or any other number of languages. All the celebrities of Egyptian history were there King Tut’s golden mask, Nefertiti’s likeness in stone, Ptolemaic coins with Alexander the Great’s face imprinted on them. However, what I found to be the most memorable, albeit cliché, were the mummies. There was one section dedicated to the mummified remains of the pharaoh’s favorite animals, which included a 20 foot 3000 year old crocodile, baboons, dogs, cats, and beetles. Nevertheless, it was the human remains that I won’t ever forget. To stare into the face of Ramses the II or the Boy King Tut is truly a strange experience. In some ways it feels wrong, these people are the dead on parade and I hope my decaying corpse never becomes a must-see attraction. But aside from this, the experience is a real morality check. These men and women were Gods in their day, the most powerful people in the ancient world and now there is nothing left but an emaciated heap of dust held together by embalming wrap. Strangely enough, I’m extremely hungry after this point and decide to leave, after over five hours of old stuff, in order to find a meal in a city of 20 million fasting people.

This turned out to be dammed near impossible for me. Most local restaurants were closed or were only beginning to open and refused to serve me until dark… and after just a hard-boiled egg for breakfast I was sure I couldn’t make it until then. After doing a zombie walk around old Cairo for an hour and a half I found myself standing before those golden arches. This was the last place I wanted to enjoy my first meal in the ME, but alas it was air conditioned and willing to feed me. I was depressed by this, but at least they had soccer on.

The rest of the day I spent just wandering around the city, enjoying the madness of the cross-cutting alleys, dizzying and deadly traffic, and millions and millions and millions of people. It seems like every other store sold clothes or perfume/potions but no one seemed to be buying. I walk past a Synagogue about three blocks from my hotel that was fortified by more then a dozen guards with assault rifles standing behind blast shield, a HMV with a mounted machine gun, and alternating concrete and metal blockages. It was at this point that I realized that the four or five soldiers/policemen that stood guard on every single city block weren’t just there because Mubarak is trying to hide the massive amount of unemployment in country.                                           

The Flights

Well my trip has officially began! After eating my final dinner of sushi in the States with Alex, Brenda, Lexi, and Ellie. I took in no more then four hours of sleep at the guest house before loading my bags into the car and heading to the airport. A drowsy drive gave way to full conciseness and excitement at the airport as I tried to navigate all the lines and security checks each feeling like one tiny mission accomplished. It was really hard to say goodbye to Alex knowing that I wouldn't see her until the end of December but I know that it was even harder for her, having two weeks to think about it before she heads off on her own adventure to France. So, I gave her my phone, took of half my clothes to get through security and realized that I had no idea when I'd talk to someone I knew again. Unfortunately, PDX is a rather uneventful way to begin any adventure. The bathroom smelt like vomit, I suppose another traveler even warier than myself, and other then that the cinnabun seemed to be the most important landmark.

The airlines must group people according to final destination or something because on my flight from Portland to Chicago I was completely surrounded by Arabs. I sat next to a American University of Cairo student and a very old Lebanese women who spoke a little English which I could barely understand and a lot of Arabic which I could also barely understand... so needless to say or conversations were limited. From what I gathered she came from Zahle in central Lebanon and was returning to see her family. She tried nearly the whole flight to explain to the stewardess that she wanted to be the first person off the plane, although we were three rows from the back. She was also quite disturbed about all the crying babies and said something along the lines of, "a little valium wouldn't hurt them" no joke. As it turns out all airports are equally boring and aside from O'hare's cool Tronish underground walkway it was no different. I spent two hours sitting by myself, eating Quiznos, and listening to some nineteen year GIs talk about how slutty each others girlfriends were being in their absence.

Once again on the flight to Frankfurt I sat next to an American University of Cairo student who gave me some valuable advice about navigating the city and all of Egypt. However, this time I also had the privilege of sitting next to a rather large and talkative Finnish man who insisted I end the silly business of learning Arabic and become a physician like him. However, he was light on the details why... but alas maybe he was right, I don't know. Although, I think he was a little drunk because unlike flights in the US, European airlines really like to pour on the booze. They started with a glass of wine or beer, followed by another, then dinner and a drink, and finally ended with brandy before turning off the light and strangely enough putting on Bugs Bunny cartoons in order to force all nagging and anxious passengers to sleep. I woke in Germany with a slight headache.

Arriving in Frankfurt at 7:30 AM was weird because my body was telling me its 11 PM and you've just awoke from a ridiculously long nap. This was helped by the fact that European airports are strangely enough, quite different from those in the States. It was constructed appropriately of drab grey tones and marble fulfilling my preconceptions of post modern Germany. But what really caught me off guard was the level of security. I was scanned as I went to shopping and eating area, again when I returned to the general terminal area, and once more at my specific gate. A large bald man made me drink the entire contents of my water bottle and refused to let me pour it out saying only, "now, now".... and "now." I thought for the time that this was simply my first encounter with a language barrier, however, if it was he has been the only person on my entire trip that only knows one english word. As I wondered looking for something to eat I had to ask myself does it really feel like 7 AM or do I want a burger and beer? Luckily, the Germans answered that for me because the only non-McCafeish restaurant was a place called "Geothe" which served a breakfast of brauts, potatoes, and sauerkraut. So, while the German guy next to me had breakfast I had dinner. I was weirded out by this at the time, but looking back this was going to be my last truly normal meal for awhile.

The flight to Cairo was surprisingly empty. I shared a row for four with one other Egyptian lady and watched half of new Alice in Wonderland, which has terrible. Before switching over to the new Karate Kid which, after seeing the 80's version only two nights before, was slightly more terrible then the Tim Burton film, so I went to sleep.

Arriving a CAI was a freaking nightmare. As the plane began to near the city I began to have apprehensions and somehow I knew these first few hours were going to be tough. The airport was probably the nicest I'd been too my whole trip. Styled after all the things tourist want to see, the sphinx and so forth, I felt wow maybe I am wrong, maybe this whole country is some big tourist driven whitewash where I can see the slights from a window. However, my interactions with the Egyptian infrastructure where just beginning. The visa processes was easy enough. You give them 15 US dollars they give you a sticker. Customs was just as simple. A guy looked at me then my bags and said "clothes?" Before I could respond he was waiving me on. I thought "what's the point of all the security on the European end of things if you can just walk through an airport in the Middle East." However, as time wore on I found that white and American means you walk through just about every security check in the country. I then spent about an hour in the front area of the airport arranging my bags and going over and over in my mind how I would explain in Arabic the specific directions to my hotel to the cab driver and first Egyptian I was soon to meet. When I mustered the courage I went out into the sweltering 100 degree heat and was immediately barraged by an army of men grabbing at my bags screaming "Taxi!" "You need Taxi!" "I take your bag!". I had heard from my Arabic teacher to never accept a cab ride from the taxi driver most enthusiastic to give you a ride. So I repeated "la shookran" about forty times and made my way to the center island where legions of taxis were pouring in. I looked for a black and white checkered one, because the AUC student on the planed assured me that "most" of these are legit and have meters. So, when I saw an empty one coming my way I flagged it down, nervously and quickly throw my things in the back seat and jumped in the front. The driver immediately smiled and said "you American?" And I immediately said to myself "oh shit." We took off toward the exit gates and I asked "how much too Mohamed Farid square?" He didn't answer my question but said, "you have ticket?" I had no idea what he was talking about. "Ok, ticket cost you 50 dollar... and to get to Cairo it cost you 200 hundred dollar." I replied "I think it should only cost 20 or so dollars... la, ashriin ashriin dollar. I don't have that kind of money" I assured him. After I said this he put the car in reverse and headed backwards in traffic at about 40 miles per hour. He then told me, "I take you to ATM you get me money... 300 US dollars" and turned off the road and into some airport construction site. *event not dramatized*