First was the apartment in Giza. When he showed me the pictures, I really couldn't believe we'd be staying that close to the pyramids! Plus, the owner, Ashraf, indicated he would be available to help us navigate our time in Cairo, and that his father, Moses, was a retired Egyptologist that could take us on personally guided tours. What could be better than that? Since we had already been to India, I was much more prepared for culture shock, and I got a bit of it the moment we landed in Cairo, and were going through passport control. There was a large man in traditional Muslim dress, accompanied by his wife, dressed head to toe in a burka, with only the slightest slit of her eyes visible. I don't particularly like the burka--for too many reasons to discuss here--but what bothered me the most was that she was carrying all the luggage. Having been raised by women, and because I feel like they are the wiser, more evolved gender, it just grates on me when I feel like women are being treated as slaves or property....but I just had to let it go, and accept that I was not in America, and try to respect the ways and customs of my host country...as best I could. When we exited the airport, the sun was just setting, and again, I was taken back to India--that red round setting sun seen through thick smoke--so thick that I could stare at the sun and it was no brighter than a light bulb.
A car was waiting for us, and drove us the 1 hour to Giza. When I could finally see the pyramids, it felt so odd...proof that I was really in Egypt, but still so unbelievable to me.
As we neared the apartment, we traveled down a road following a canal that was filled with trash--again, memories of India, yet this time I was not so shocked, not so bothered...I was only sad that my exposure to such realities had already desensitised me to the point that such poverty seemed normal and acceptable. Plus, Egypt just didn't seem as poor and as dirty as India...maybe that made me feel better too. I wondered how Allan's dad, Bob, was dealing with the culture shock...We turned down a dirt road lined with small shops, and eventually came to a dirt parking lot. Camels and horses were all around, and the smell...well, the smell was just as you'd expect it to be: Quite farm like. Ashraf was there to greet us, and a young boy helped carry our luggage up the four flights of stairs to our unit. (Yes, more free exercise!) The apartment was huge, with two large bedrooms--each about as large as my entire apartment in Portland. There was a nice size bath, living room, kitchen, and two huge terraces. Each bedroom had two full beds, and Allan and I resumed our story of being divorced traveling buddies--Homosexuality is illegal in Egypt. It also helped our "cover" that Allan's dad was with us--this was a family trip!
Ashraf then took us for a drive to buy groceries, but our first stop was to buy Bob some beer. Ashraf explained that if we went by ourselves, we'd get overcharged because we are tourists. The "liquor store" was more like a small shack, and as Ashraf haggled the price, I took this picture:
Next was the grocery store, which was small but well stocked. As we wandered the aisles, Ashraf helped us locate jam, bread, juice, and eggs. A pretty young girl stocking the shelves would indicate to us the "better brand" like organic milk, as she smiled such a welcoming smile. It was my first introduction to how sweet the Egyptian people would be, and though we couldn't share words with one another because of the language barrier, we gave each other friendly glances--but I had to be careful with such interaction. We had read that it can be a breach of etiquette to be overly friendly with women here. Across the street was a bakery, where we loaded up on Egyptian goodies for the week, and the staff freely gave us samples of absolutely anything we wanted to try.
Ashraf then took us for a drive to buy groceries, but our first stop was to buy Bob some beer. Ashraf explained that if we went by ourselves, we'd get overcharged because we are tourists. The "liquor store" was more like a small shack, and as Ashraf haggled the price, I took this picture:
Next was the grocery store, which was small but well stocked. As we wandered the aisles, Ashraf helped us locate jam, bread, juice, and eggs. A pretty young girl stocking the shelves would indicate to us the "better brand" like organic milk, as she smiled such a welcoming smile. It was my first introduction to how sweet the Egyptian people would be, and though we couldn't share words with one another because of the language barrier, we gave each other friendly glances--but I had to be careful with such interaction. We had read that it can be a breach of etiquette to be overly friendly with women here. Across the street was a bakery, where we loaded up on Egyptian goodies for the week, and the staff freely gave us samples of absolutely anything we wanted to try.Ashraf taught me how to say "thank you" in Arabic (shokran) so I kept saying that, smiling and bowing like I was in Japan. (Goofball!) We then went back to our new home, seeking rest after a long day of traveling.
But when we got home, the Sound & Light Show at the pyramids had started, and the sound of it was inescapable. Ashraf had warned us that the show would play three times each night in a variety of languages, and so we stepped onto the terrace to see what it was all about. The pyramids were lit an eerie green and/or red as the "voice" of the Sphinx narrated the story of the pyramids. How lucky were we to see this show for free! (Bus loads of people are brought in each hour to sit before the Sphinx and see the show for about $10.) We decided to save watching it for another day, and went back in the house to unpack, eat, and go to bed--all the while this 45 minute presentation played three times, loudly. The people living here are either driven insane by it, or they just don't hear it anymore...Here's a brief movie I took of the program...hard to see, but you get the idea.
But when we got home, the Sound & Light Show at the pyramids had started, and the sound of it was inescapable. Ashraf had warned us that the show would play three times each night in a variety of languages, and so we stepped onto the terrace to see what it was all about. The pyramids were lit an eerie green and/or red as the "voice" of the Sphinx narrated the story of the pyramids. How lucky were we to see this show for free! (Bus loads of people are brought in each hour to sit before the Sphinx and see the show for about $10.) We decided to save watching it for another day, and went back in the house to unpack, eat, and go to bed--all the while this 45 minute presentation played three times, loudly. The people living here are either driven insane by it, or they just don't hear it anymore...Here's a brief movie I took of the program...hard to see, but you get the idea.
We left the windows open when we went to bed, Ashraf assuring us that the neighborhood was safe. "If you have any problems with anyone, mention my name. My family has lived on this land for a long time. Everyone knows us." I quickly fell asleep, but as the night wore on, the suffocating smell of smoke drifted in the apartment, and I awoke with a sore, sticky throat, clogged sinuses, and a sandpaper tongue. Memories of India again....At 3:00 or 4:00 in the morning, we were inundated by the Muslim calls to prayer. It's an long, eerie, amplified call of several voices, each coming from a different area of Giza and Cairo--impossible to miss or ignore. In my sleepy haze, I felt like I could make out one single voice that was actually quite pretty--perhaps the voice closest to our location. This call went on for several minutes, then all was quiet. (Calls are given five times a day, and no matter where you are in this city of 20+ million, you can hear it. 75% of the population is Muslim, so it's akin to church bells ringing in predominantly Catholic cities like Florence.) I was awoken by the sound of roosters. Lots of them. Roosters in a Giza neighborhood?
In the morning, I got up to meditate, and looked outside. No pyramids. The haze was so thick, they could not be seen until the sunrise--and then, just barely:
In the morning, I got up to meditate, and looked outside. No pyramids. The haze was so thick, they could not be seen until the sunrise--and then, just barely:
In the morning light, I could now see that the neighboring buildings all had rooftop terraces, and to my surprise, some were home to chickens, geese, and goats!
Other rooftops were laden with trash, and all were blanketed with a thick layer of sand and dust. Here is a picture of our parking lot, now a "stable" for the many camels and horses that tourists ride. (Ashraf told us later that when the Sound & Light Show moved to the neighborhood, all the horses and camels got pushed back into the residential area, bringing with it shit, smell, and flies. Ashraf was not happy...)
This was clearly not the Four Seasons Hotel, and I was happy for that. Sure, it was different, even slightly uncomfortable to experience something so foreign to my life in Portland. But it was real. It was Giza. It was authentic. You don't get that in an Americanized hotel. I just had to get over that overwhelming desire to grab a broom and a garbage can and start cleaning up the neighborhood! So I did my best to accept that life here is different, and it includes a lot of dust. And farm animals. And trash.We ate a quick breakfast, and decided to head out early to walk around the pyramids--early is better when the temperature is expected to rise somewhere in the 90's, and there is not much shade to be found. Bob, Allan, and I bravely stepped outside and walked down our street (pictured here, Allan at the front door to our apartment),
through our neighborhood, and turned right onto the main road. The "back entrance gate" to the pyramids was about a 100 yards away. In seconds we were being approached by touts, aggressively offering us taxi rides, horse rides, camel rides, scarves, jewelry, pyramids made of various materials, and a multitude of other souvenirs of Egypt. Stone faced, repeating "no thank you", we walked through the barrage of sellers to the gate. Then about five guys all tried to tell us different things about how to see the pyramids, and we were so mistrustful at this point, we turned around and went straight back home to Ashraf! He laughed and gave us instructions on what to do, and back out we went, like brave little boys on their first day of school. We bought our tickets (around $11 each), and made it inside, and for the next several hours we walked, amazed and dazed by the enormous, confounding, mystical, magical and ancient structures before us. It is so very hard to believe that they were built nearly 5000 years ago...and are still there. And we thought the ruins in Rome and Ireland were old!
But our awe didn't stop the touts from trying to sell us anything and everything. They are crafty guys! One young man asked me where I was from, suggesting France. (I took that to mean I am thin and chic.) He then said I looked Egyptian because of my 4 day beard stubble. (Oh brother!) When I said I was from America, he started on his praise for Obama. "Obama, good man! Good for peace! Good for world! Bush no good. Bush mafia! But Obama is good!" We shook hands in agreement, and then he said, "Here, take this. It is a gift. I love America!" and he put a white head scarf in my hands. I tried to refuse it, but the more I tried to refuse it, the more he insisted. He even took it out of the package and wrapped it around my head until I looked like an Arabian Knight. Lovely. Did I learn nothing from Italy and that leather jacket? "Take your picture! You Egyptian now!" he said. It was at this point I knew what this was all about. If I got out my camera, he would insist on taking my picture, and then would come the open hand for me to tip him. I did not get out my camera. "You happy?" he said. That was the second clue I was in trouble. In India we learned that "You happy, Me happy" meant tip me, and no matter what you tip, it will never be enough. I said "No, I am not happy. I really don't want this." So then he took 3 small pyramids made of stone and stuffed them into a bag and handed me those. "Please take. These are gifts for you!" We went back and forth like this for quite some time until I finally had to set everything he was giving me on the ground, and walked away. He then introduced me to his "son" (maybe it was the truth, who knows) and asked if I could give them money....Oh, of the many things I love about traveling, this is not one of them.
I escaped that situation wiser and more prepared for the week to come, and tried not to let it dampen my spirits and tarnish the amazing experience I just had at the Giza pyramids. I have learned that it is better to laugh about such things...I guess we all have to make a living somehow, and this is one way that they do it in Egypt. We walked home for lunch, each of us sharing our thoughts and feelings about our first day in crazy old Egypt. As the sun was setting that night, we stepped out onto our balcony to take in the wonder of it all.
It had been a truly amazing day, one I had only dreamed of. In fact, the reality of me being in Giza, watching the sun set behind the pyramids was just about as unbelievable as the pyramids themselves. It's a confoundment that hits me with each place we visit, and this will surely be remembered as one of the most profound.
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