Egypt 2009
- Ramō=Randy Moeller
- 13 hours ago
- 9 min read
As much as I enjoy the stimulation of international travel, it has been Kernie to not only catalyze, but sell many of our many trips to me. Egypt had come up as a destination for maybe a decade. I deferred, suggesting alternates. Why is that? Egypt is in the Middle East. Enough said, right? Egypt has fought Israel multiple times and my government has stood with Israel, right or wrong. I assumed, as an American, that I would be judged by that. I thought we would not be welcome in Egypt. I knew little of Egyptian social norms or attitudes and was intimidated by its very foreigness, the thing that most attracted Kernie to it.
Kernie persisted. The defining moment was, “Well, OK, you don’t have to go. I will go by myself.” We had flipped from here being a catalyst to the driver of an “exothermic" reaction. She planned accordingly.
In another life, I might have been an archaeologist. I had seen many sites in Peru, Mexico, Greece, Turkey, and Italy; perhaps it was time to see what Roman tourists saw. A plan was developed with my in-laws, Kathy and Ricardo.
Flying into Cairo, there is no doubt you are in an archeological paradise: at altitude, the pyramids and sphinx are right there—as is the Nile with sailboats cruising through the city. The taxi to our hotel was gridlocked on the road into the city but the visuals were stimulating. A wall celebrated the Egyptian Sinai war with Israel and the murals on that wall brought to mind the heroic art of the soviets during world war II. Our hotel claimed that “Churchill slept here,” and we were reminded once more as first worlders from the West that we were in the Middle East. Our baggage was x rayed and metal detectors were used coming in and out of the hotel. As was my fate more than once, our room looked over a sea of brick buildings, mostly incomplete and Ricardo and Kathy had a sort of view of the Nile.
I called the travel guide Kernie had corresponded with and Rasha, sorting out who I was heaved a sigh of relief. Kernie had not completed the web site commitment to our city tour and Rasha told me, she had to decide on whether she would commit to the cost of a car and driver. She had. This was not a trivial expense. Our city tour was comprehensive and we engaged with Rasha who was personable and spoke fluent English, with ease. Of interest, our driver, in a suit, carried a short stock AK 47 under his business jacket.
There was a mix of impressions meeting and talking to locals. Many spoke English and I made joke about how Nordstrom’s must have done the service training as many were incredibly solicitous and helpful. “We are so glad you are visiting my country,” was a common refrain. Intermingled with this, the occasional scowl, in my case seemingly associated with the forehead callus that reflected devout supplications in prayer on hard surfaces. There was an unending barrage of requests to consider purchasing things—food, trinkets, travel logs, anything. During the day, our excursions were confined to a few blocks because of impassable traffic—we learned to follow with women in traditional dress and cluster behind them as they forged across a street. Frogger came to mind. Not far from the hotel, we encountered the US embassy built like a fortress with uniformed Egyptian men forming a perimeter behind which was the wall, barbed wire, and Marines added to the impression that just maybe, we would not be welcome here.
Rasha proved to be an “on time” kind of guide and given our small group, we efficiently moved through a huge variety of the attractions that are old Cairo. I was suddenly thinking of Saladin, who would have walked some of these places, and in the Coptic churches, I thought of Lawrence Durell. One house of at least three floors showed exquisite stone and woodwork all decorated with Edwardian pictures and art—it had been the home of a European. The balconies wrought in exquisite enclosing woodwork almost touched over the very narrow alleyways.
At the end of a long day of touring Cairo’s museums, mosques, and churches, Kernie asked Rasha, “So what are you doing tomorrow?” Rasha paused, and commented that she was planning to visit here family outside of Cairo. Kernie asked if she would like to have us pay for an additional day and join her. Rasha said she would consider this and would get back to us. Within hours, our day was planned. We would be driving to rural Egypt seeing some sights along the way and eventually be treated to a lunch with her family in Al Fayum.
If you look at a picture of Egypt as seen from the International Space Station, you will see the green stripe that is the Nile running through a brown background ending in a fan shape on the Mediterranean cost: the Nile delta. Just south of Cairo and a bit to the west, is a green triangle—this is an irrigated area where Al Fayum sits. For a portion of our drive, we were to encounter vehicular stops. Rasha advised that we not speak at these stops. Ricardo and I resolved to speak in Spanish if questioned. We again, for this portion of the drive, had a driver with his trusty AK. The highway stop came after views of a long lost city poking through sand dunes. We ended on a lake, surrounded by sand where there were Egyptian tourists. It was a dramatic scene. Nearby, fossilized whale bones could be seen—remnants of the great flood undoubtedly. Of interest, women in the lake remained fully dressed. Before arriving in Al Fayum, we had a hairpin turn on a country road and within the curve, an outdoor bazaar. Kernie asked if we could stop and walk through it. Rasha was taken aback; “You want to walk through the bazaar?” Minutes later, we were surrounded by children as we viewed the tents and stands selling everything: pots, pans, food, electronics, soaps, and clothes. It was here I bought a very nice Galabaya seemingly made out of material of a color and style that belonged in an English made suit. We moved on. Before arriving at Rasha’s house, Kernie asked to stop at a bakery where she bought thank-you gifts: pastries. It was outside the bakery I spied young men looking, not curiously, but disdainfully at our presence. Our guide with the AK was now gone.
Rasha warned us that her house was very nice; her father had a prestigious job. Rural housing is quite different in Egypt but what we saw was typical: a three story poured concrete frame with bricks forming the walls. The top floor had pillars with rebar extended out and we learned that tax codes made it advisable to not officially complete a construction so this look was seen everywhere. On the roof was a chicken coup, a pigeon coup, a grape arbor, and a wonderful view of the surrounding neighborhood. The living room was simple and with only a single lightbulb from the ceiling. The furniture was vintage and a bit warn. The people living in this house were mostly young and full of energy. While wearing conservative wear outdoors, hair covered, we, as guests, shared the informality of sweat clothes, T shirts, shorts, and heads bared. The family interacted with us naturally though the father was limited: “It is very nice to see you. Thank you, thank you,” was the limit of his English. Rasha was the only daughter living on her own in Cairo—a non traditional step in Egypt. Another daughter was in training to be a doctor with an obligation to serve her town when she graduated. Washing up for lunch, the only bathroom in the house had a sink and a toilet. There was no hot water. A 40 watt bulb served for lighting. We appreciated the fact that this was a solid middle class family whose home had a different look to that we had experienced. We felt really fortunate the share this experience with them.
Lunch came. We heard that the family and friends had spent hours preparing a lunch of specialties. The table was quickly filled with plates of chicken, rice with vegetables, pastes and grape leaves abounded. There was flatbread. The smells were foreign to me but the flavors while taking some time to get used to were wonderful. .The odd, off-putting thing about this impressive and kind presentation of food was that no one from the family joined us. It was not Ramadan. And we could not convince any of them to join us. We became when interacting after lunch, pleasant but quite formal not understanding this. I don’t recall if we asked Rasha why this was directly and if we did, I don’t recall her answer.
The drive back found us at some of the oldest pyramids—these were step pyramids. My yearning to be an archeologist was getting tweaked. We held off on the great pyramids as these would be the icing on the cake after a Nile riverboat tour.
It turns out, while on the river cruise, Kernie was much better at focussing on the history of many of the places we visited. There were many each day and the names and visuals all began to intermingle. Our tour guide would quiz us each day to see if we remembered the images of the gods but next, who they were related to and what they represented name by name. The visuals though: you open a turn of the century tour book with pen and inks of these sights, the smell of the glossy pages reeking of their own sort of antiquity (you know that smell!), and suddenly one is looking at the real thing in 90 degree heat. The scale of these structures was incredible and it was evident in areas that had been protected from thee sun, all the wall and ceiling decorations had once been painted in vivid colors. Graffiti from tourists in the 1800’s twenty feet up showed how high the silt had accumulated before these sites were excavated.
We came to Egypt knowing that alcohol was not likely to be found. I was surprised when on the viewing deck of our river boat, the first night, a young waiter asked if I would like some Campari—I said I could try some and he poured a small glass of a light brown liquid that tasted like alcohol preparations from Tijuana used by teenagers in the 1960’s. Campari is supposed to be quite red in color. We had tried to obtain alcohol through our travel guide who was an observant muslim ie he did not drink, but he was happy to help us obtain some Scotch from a friend. Two ports later, he presented a bottle wrapped in newspaper from under his windbreaker in our room. It appeared to be Johnny Walker black. I took off the corked top and noted to myself that I thought Johnny Walker had a screw top. One taste told me that it was Campari—-no—-it was the same alcohol that had mimed Campari. I looked carefully at the label and it was very cleverly done: I had not purchased Johnny Walker but rather, John Wahl though the figure and script looked almost identical to J Walker. We came to learn that there is a closet industry in Egypt distilling what is essentially a form of vodka and tinting it and then selling it as a recognized brand. Happily, our guide, embarrassed, apologized, asked for a little more money and got us a legitimate bottle at the next port.
The end of the line traveling South was Aswan. The dam, the town, and the views were quite impressive. We saw the first cataract which reflected through hieroglyphics carved in the stone the boundary of the old kingdom and the need for goods to be taxed heading down river. Two interesting events at this site: Kernie was at the tiller as we sailed on a broad expanse of water. Her smile was as wide as the desert. In the town of Aswan, we came upon an intersection while walking and witnessed two young men, locals fighting in the street. Wild swinging of fists and shouting caught our attention but to my amazement, within thirty seconds, men from all sides of the streets intervened and separated those boys. Thirty seconds later, the tourists would have no clue there had been a problem. I tried to imagine in a US city what would happen if two boys started fighting like that in an intersection…..and what would go through the mind of anyone thinking to intervene…..
A combination of lights took us to Abu Simbel for a day and then back to Cairo.
We of course, a day short of leaving finally came to Giza. Despite my hatred of taking tourist bait, I rode a camel and thoroughly enjoyed it. The scale of the pyramids does demand respect both for their longevity and their scale. But more interesting to me was a museum built along side on of the three large pyramids where a recovered river boat was reassembled. This boat was dated 2,500 years before Christ! It was held together with leather and like the pyramids, much larger than any reasonable person could expect. Randy the archaeologist was thrilled with the views this afforded which eclipsed even the Sphinx. The view of the Sphinx as it turned out was modified by a host of tourists, many of them young and female, wearing immodest clothing in the desert sun. While not a prude, I do like the adage, “when in Rome….” I was pleased that the majority of young tourists seen that day were in fact, not Americans, but Europeans.
This trip wound up being one of the best we ever took.
Old city buildings in Cairo from the Rasha tour
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