After two restful days at sea, the next port of call on our Journey to Solar Eclipse '06 was Alexandria, Egypt. At Alexandria, we had various touring options, including pyramid tours, the Cairo Museum, and a trip to the step pyramids of Zoser. We opted for the pyramids and the Cairo Museum and got up early to catch a bus for a 3 hour bus ride to Cairo.
The pyramids were something I had wanted to see since I was a child, peering into an old copy of the World Book Encyclopedia from the fifties that my mom bought at a garage sale. From the grainy black and white photographs, annual viewings of The Ten Commandments, and books about the Pharaohs that I borrowed from the library, I conjured up an image of the pyramids as the epitome of exotic, mysterious locations. The pyramids and Egypt were about as far away from Germantown, Ohio as I could imagine, so that was the place I wanted to be without a doubt.
To prepare for the trip, for the past six months or so, we had been reading books about mummies, Pharaohs, and Egyptian mythology to Alex, who was as curious and captivated as we were when we were kids. He became something of a Junior Egyptologist, and often regaled his kindergarten class with tales of Osiris, Isis, and Seth, Anubis the jackal-headed god, and the intricacies of mummification during Show & Tell. His teacher said, "He could go on about this stuff for half an hour and the kids would hang on his every word. I might as well go out for coffee." We visited all the local attractions with Egyptian Exhibits, like the wonderful Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum in San Jose, the DeYoung Museum's Queen Hatsheput exhibit, and traveled to Los Angeles for the LA County Museum showing of the traveling King Tut collection. To say we were all excited to finally see the pyramids would be quite an understatement.
This was something I had always wanted to see, and that Alex was really looking forward to, so I had to set aside the gnawing fear that niggled at me from watching too much CNN in a post-9/11 America. The Luxor tourist bus terrorist attack of 1997 loomed large in my mind and I silently worried about security. Since 9/11, it seems that all the news coming out of the Muslim world sends the message that we should just stay away. Egypt's economy was badly damaged by the Luxor attack, since tourism is a huge source of revenue for the country. We were assured that the government went to great lengths to make it as safe as possible for visitors. Still, half the people I told about the trip prior to leaving said, "Are you nuts? I wouldn't go near that part of the world." The other half said, "How exciting! I've always wanted to see the pyramids" and those voices alternated like a little angel and the little devil sitting on my shoulder, only I'm not sure which was which.
So, with some trepidation, we boarded the big tour bus and hoped for the best. I was hoping we were in for a fun day of viewing antiquities and not a hostage situation. We were told that the tour company had taken every precaution, and the reason for our slow departure was that we had to go by convoy and none of the buses could leave until everyone was on board. Each bus came equipped with an armed guard, an English-speaking tour guide, and radios. I banished thoughts form my mind about an article in Newsweek I had read about "the new breed of female terrorists" and one particular woman who spent time in Egypt "shooting at tourist buses for fun." I tried to banish such thoughts from my mind, and just remember the inimitable words of Doris Day, "Que sera, sera."
The bus was crowded, so the three of us squeezed into the very last row, where the bus fumes proceeded to give me a headache. Our tour guide was a chatty and friendly Egyptian woman wearing a nice cream-colored pantsuit and a fashionable print head scarf, and half a dozen or so gold chains and other assorted gold jewelry. She spoke English well and mentioned that she had lived in the UK for a time. She told us that her name meant something like "beloved", which I think is the Arabic equivalent of "Amy." Since I could not pronounce or remember her name, I will just call her "Amy."
After waiting until every bus was filled, we headed out slowly through the streets of Alexandria. Even though it was 9 am, none of the shops were open yet. "This place," said Tour Guide Amy, "Does not open until the afternoon. Then it is open all night." By day, Alexandria looked deserted, worn-down and not very attractive. It was hard to tell if any of them were inhabited or just burned out shells. I did a summer internship at a Legal Aid office in the South Bronx, and the general sense of urban decay and poverty was about the same. It wasn't as bad as Delhi, where we had seen miles and miles of houses made from old Coke signs, planks, and cardboard, but it did not look like the "beautiful seaside resort town" that Amy was describing as we departed, any more than you could say that about the South Bronx in the mid-eighties.
During the long bus ride, the scenery changed from urban decay to empty desert punctuated by billboards and the occasional mosque, with minaret towers reaching up into the sky. As we approached the outskirts of Cairo, we noticed a new housing development going up across from a strip mall. It looked like the Arab version of Celebration, Florida, with uniform houses in pastel colors all lined up near a beautiful mosque that shared the same color palette.
I was looking out the window, when I suddenly saw a gray, shadowy figure of a pyramid on the horizon. It loomed large over the city and dwarfed everything around it. It gave me goosebumps, and I had to blink a few times to make sure it was real and not some desert mirage. It was like a dream scape and didn't seem entirely real. I poked a sleepy Alex and said, "Hey, look, there's the pyramid."
He stood up, crawled over me and the unfortunate woman sitting next to me and shouted, "There it is! There's the pyramid!" The rest of the bus seemed to wake up at that moment and collectively start snapping pictures.
The bus got off the highway and made its way through the streets of Cairo, while Amy described to us what our schedule would look like for the day. First, we would go to a good viewing point to take pictures of the pyramids from a distance, then we would go for a closer view, then to the Sphinx. We would then go to a lunch buffet at a hotel, then a market to buy souvenirs and finally, the crown jewel, the Egyptian Museum. She showed us some of the jewelry she was wearing and made an impassioned speech about the quality of gold jewelry and how inexpensive it was compared to the rest of the world, then passed around an order form for us to order a khartouch, which was a kind of long pendant with your name spelled out in hieroglyphics. She also had an order form for t-shirts (100% Egyptian Cotton!) that we could order. These would be ready for us by the time we reached the market after lunch, so we had to order now if we wanted to take advantage of this very special offer. Not ever being ones to pass up a shopportunity, we gladly obliged and placed our orders before debarking the bus.
Before we got off, Amy emphasized that no one on the bus was to get on a camel for a picture without talking to her first and taking her with them. She told us a story of an unfortunate American couple in in one of her tour groups a week prior who veered off and got on a camel. They were initially told that it was $5 for a photo and camel ride, but after they were on camel-back, were told it was $10. When they protested, they were told it would be $20, then the camel-driver took them further and further into the desert and away from the group. Amy and the rest of the group had to search for them, and by the time they made it back, they were $80 poorer, but all the wiser. Camel-based extortion seems to be a norm, since my friend Linda told me a similar story of her visit to the pyramids, only for her it was $5 to get on the camel, and $5 to get off. The more you protested, the higher the fee to get off. So, if you ever get to Egypt, just be wary of riding anyone's camel.
Immediately
upon debarking the bus, we were descended upon by men in long, flowing
tunics wearing either traditional an Arab head dress or a fez, who
asked if we wanted to ride a camel and take a picture. We politely,
but firmly said "no thanks" and walked to a good vantage point for a
picture of us with the pyramids in the background. A few other
entrepreneurial types offered us postcards, but when we said "no", they
moved on to the next person. There was a row of vendors with blankets
on the ground selling small replicas of Egyptian artifacts, photo
books, and jewelry. Alex ran to one of them and picked up a small
Sphinx and asked if he could buy it. He also picked up a small bust of
King Tut and so I asked the man how much for the two items and he
replied, "20 euros" When I balked at the price, he said, "10?" He
handed Alex a small bust of Nefertiti, 10 scarab beads, and a metal
pyramid. The longer we stood there, the more he added. We finally
paid him and walked away, with Alex loaded down with treasures that he
was convinced were made of gold.
At
the next stop at the base of the Great Pyramid, the camel guys were out
in full force, and the men selling trinkets had a much more aggressive
approach. One of them came up and put what looked like a cloth diaper
on Alex's head and secured it with a woven headband, making him look
like a miniature Lawrence of Arabia.
When I protested, he said, "This is my gift to you, to welcome you to
my country." I thanked him, and started to protest again, but Alex was
pretty attached to this diaper on his head, so I let it go. The man
told Frank, "You look like my father!" and handed Alex some small
pyramids and put scarab beads in his pockets. He gave me a pyramid and
said, "My gift to you, lady, because you look like my mother." I
didn't know whether to be flattered or offended by this, since this guy
looked to be about my age.
After plying us with "gifts," he turned to Frank, "How about a gift for me?" Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out some Egyptian pounds, and the guy protested. "How about American money?"
Frank told him that's all he had, and the man became agitated and asked for his gifts back. Alex dutifully gave him back a pyramid and the scarabs, but I had already pocketed one of them. He said, "Where is the other pyramid?"
I retorted, "You said it was a gift" and turned and walked away. He
yelled something at us in Arabic, but then a tourist police officer
came over and escorted him away. He kept the Egyptian pounds, so I
figured we were even.
We tried to take a few pictures at the base of the pyramid, but one young Egyptian man after another accosted us and tried to give us "gifts." They were like flies on a dead camel carcass. I told Alex he was not to take anything more and that we had plenty of stuff. I told him to put his hands in his pockets and say, "no, thank you" and he dutifully complied. Several of them tried to readjust Alex's headpiece until I nearly threatened to smack them if they put their hands on my kid one more time. I lost patience with this very quickly. Several took a different tact and flashed peace signs at us and yelled things like "America is number one!" and "I love Mickey Mouse!" I think this was an attempt to establish some kind of rapport with us. I guess it could have been "Yankee go home!" or "Death to the infidels!" so it could definitely have been worse.
Getting an up-close view of the pyramids was a little disheartening. In the distance, they are both grand and ethereal, rising up from the desert and pointing toward the heavens. Up close, they look like they could crumble at any moment, or as if a big wind might come along and disintegrate them into a big mound of dust on the desert landscape. One of them looked like it had been repaired with concrete on the top, so it was two different colors and looked like some of Alex's Play-doh creations.
After surviving the Attack of the Tourist Vendors, we headed over to
the Sphinx. You need a separate ticket to be permitted into the area
where you can view the Spinx close-up , which Amy secured for us. We
entered a small iron gate and proceeded down several open-air
corridors. The pl
ace was overrun with tourists, some of whom we recognized from our ship.
On the way into the viewing area, we saw a young Egyptian boy behind an iron gate. He stuck his arms through the gate and held out postcards for sale. The boy looked like he was about six or seven and was about the same size as Alex. He was small and thin, wearing ragged clothes and dirty sandals. He was missing a tooth, and his face was dirty. He was crying silently and not saying anything to the people passing by. Alex walked by him, and said to me, "Why is that boy crying, Mommy?"
"I don't know, " I said. "Maybe he is sad because he wishes he was in school." Alex did not buy this explanation for a second.
"Is he sad because he is poor and has to sell postcards?" he asked thoughtfully. "Or maybe because he lost his mommy and daddy?" Sure enough, no parental figures were anywhere near this child. I had no answers for him, so I tried to distract him by getting him to stand on the retaining wall in front of the Sphinx for a photo, but he refused. He suddenly became very quiet and pensive. His brow was furrowed and he started pacing, looking at the ground. I asked him what was wrong, and he said he was worried about the sad boy. He asked Frank to take him to the boy, because maybe the boy was lonely and need a friend. Frank obliged and took him back to where the boy was now attempting to scale the gate and was precariously straddling the walls.
They came back and Alex handed me a faded postcard that Frank bought from the boy for about twenty cents. Alex said, "He's happier now, Mommy. I made him my friend." Alex then cooperated with having his picture taken with the Sphinx and soon it was time to depart.
On our way out, we passed the Sad Boy again. Alex walked up to him and quietly said, "Goodbye. I love you." The sad boy repeated back, "Goodbye. I love you."
When I think of what I hope for Alex in the future, I don't imagine him to be some super-genius, Fortune 500 CEO, or even a doctor or lawyer or engineer. I want him to be a person with compassion in his heart, respect and awe for the world we live in, and to carry himself with the grace of knowing that he is loved and cherished. I want him to pursue his own dreams, not mine. I want him to be exactly the kind of person he was on this day.
I felt a little sheepish after seeing how he handled this, and somewhat embarrassed by my attitude toward the vendors at the Pyramids. My feeling was to run away or ignore the situation. He saw an opportunity to make a friend. When I grow up, I want to be like Alex.
We left the Sad Boy and exited the Sphinx viewing area and walked toward the bus. On the way out, there were a wide variety of souvenir vendors, but all of them took a very laid-back approach, just holding things up and smiling. No following, no "my gift to you, my American friend", no hard sell at all. We passed a man selling stuffed camels of various sizes that Alex was excited by. The man offered us the largest one, but I told him that was too big for our suitcases. He squeezed one of the camels and a peppy Arabic song emanated from within that sounded like "blah-de-ble-da, blah-de-ble-dah." A little girl was standing with him, and she started squeezing the camels so they would all begin singing this raucous song at the same time. "Cool!" Alex exclaimed.
"This is my daughter!" the man said proudly. "I have many
daughters and this one is the smallest!" I asked how old she was and
he told me she was five. I asked if we could take a photo of her and
Alex and he was happy to oblige. The two stood mugging for the camera,
and the proud dad said, "Give him a kiss!" so she pecked Alex on the
cheek. The dad was a little too encouraging about this kissing thing,
so I decided it was time to take our singing camel and go. We thanked
him, wished him well, and paid his asking price.
En route to the bus, we ran into Ethan and his family. Ethan and
Alex ran toward each other with open arms and jumped up and down.
Ethan's cousin told me that Ethan had been crabby all day long and had
asked for Alex from the time they boarded the bus. The two were happy
to see each other and chatted and plotted their next play date.
Ethan's dad said that they had gotten rooked into a camel ride, but it
ended up only costing them $10 to get Ethan off the camel. Evidently,
he stopped to take a picture and when he looked down to check where
Ethan was, two guys had already perched him on a camel. At least he
got the picture.
After a buffet lunch at a very pleasant hotel that did not look like
much from the outside, we stopped for shopping at a papyrus factory and
market. I was expecting a "traditional market" to be a place with open
air stalls and handmade items, but that was not the case. This was a
two-story building that was more like a Japanese department store than
an Egyptian market. We first visited the downstairs Papyrus Factory,
which had a number of papyrus paintings, everything from traditional
Egyptian tomb paintings with hieroglyphics to a rendering of Jesus on
the cross. The painting looked to be done by the same artist who does
all those black velvet paintings from Mexico--very kitschy,
melodramatic and not that well-executed. There were several men
standing around giving talks about the history of papyrus and how the
reeds that make it only grow on the Nile. We bought Alex a chart that
showed the English alphabet with hieroglyphic equivalent. I think he
plans to use it like a super-secret decoder ring, if he's ever trapped
in a tomb, like the kids in Mummy Math
The
upstairs portion of the market had sections of other goods, like wooden
boxes with mosaic patterns, chess sets, beaded headdresses and belly
dancing costumes, ornate perfume bottles, and the ubiquitous tchatchkes
with the head of King Tut or Queen Nefertiti or tiny mummies in ornate
sarcophagi. We spent about 2 hours in this place, but Alex was getting
tired and crabby, so we cut out early to sit on the bus and examine our
loot from the day. It took about half an hour for the rest of our
group to make its way back, but we needed a rest.
The bus crawled through narrow, traffic-filled streets, crossing the Nile, en route to the Egy
ptian Museum.
The scenery along the Nile was quite pleasant, with high rise hotels
and apartment buildings, waterfront restaurants, and boats in the
river. Cairo looked like a modern city, not unlike any you might find
in Europe or the United States. There was nothing threatening of
foreboding about the landscape or the people we saw walking or driving
along the streets. We passed a truckload of army men, who made a point
to lean out and wave at us, smiling and and flashing peace signs.
We arrived at the museum about 45 minutes before closing time, which annoyed Frank to no end. He thought we should have come to the museum first and gone shopping at the end so that we would have avoided this problem. We wanted to shop in the museum gift shop, but it was closing by the time we arrived. Amy hustled us through the museum, bypassing everything on the first floor, to take us up to some ornately carved furniture, boxes, and painted coffins on the second floor. Her descriptions of the objects were detailed and thoughtful, but it was hard to hear her because of the competing noise of other tour groups. The museum was hot, crowded, and not very well-lit. I was impressed by how large it was, and just by how much stuff there was to see. You would really need to spend a week going into different areas to be able to see it all.
Alex lost his patience with the museum pretty quickly, and started to wander off to look at weapons. We tried to corral him back to the group, but he wanted no part of it. I told Amy we were going off on our own, and she told us to be sure to meet up with the group at 6:00 at the fountain in front of the museum. She told us we could go ahead to the King Tut room.
We entered a well-air conditioned room with all the artifacts of King Tut that were not currently touring America.
Some cases contained little signs saying "Currently On Loan" where a
canopic jar or necklace once were placed. Still, there was an
impressive array of artifacts, mostly gold, and the centerpiece of the
entire attraction, the Golden Funerary Mask. I was half expecting it
to be sort of a let-down, like our honeymoon race through the Louvre to
find the very petite and lackluster Mona Lisa. Tut's
mask, on the other hand, was quite impressive in that it looked so
heavy and still so polished and new. Centuries have gone by, and
either King Tut had a restorer that is the museum's equivalent of Dr. 90210,
or those ancient Egyptians had way more skills than moving rocks into
geometric shapes. It was amazing that something so old could be so
striking and beautiful. I had the same feeling once before when I
accidently bumped into the rock star Sting
Frank wanted to see the Mummy Exhibit, which we had read contains all the mummies of the Pharaohs in order of their reign. The Mummy Room had an extra charge, and they only took Egyptian pounds...no dollars, no euros, no credit cards. This was the first place we had encountered all day that didn't jump for joy over US dollars, but since this was a government-run museum, we should not have been surprised. Unfortunately, Frank didn't have enough Egyptian pounds to get us in because Tour Guide Amy pointedly told us we would not need Egyptian pounds for anything on this tour. We walked away dejected and disappointed.
Alex was sad that he didn't get to see all the mummies, but perked
up when we ran into Ethan again. Ethan was riding on top of his dad's
shoulders, but was slumped over like he would fall asleep at any
minute. He brightened when he saw Alex, and the two stood and looked
at a huge stone sarcophagus. Ethan showed Alex the gold khartouch ID
bracelet he had gotten at the market, and Alex admired it. Both boys
looked exhausted and I was sure that Alex was headed for Meltdown City
any minute.
We made our way downstairs to the bookstore, which was still open, and bought bookmarks for Alex's class and postcards. We went outside to wait by the fountain for the rest of our group. It was dusk, and the city was bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. It seemed peaceful, even though there were crowds of people on the streets and traffic all around.
Suddenly, a man's voice pierced the air, loudly chanting in Arabic.
I recognized this voice from every movie I have ever seen set in a
Muslim country; it was the voice proclaiming the evening call to
prayer. At first I thought it was coming from a sound truck circling
the museum, but the voice never faded or faltered. It was clear,
resounding, and unmistakably a call for people to stop to take time to
honor God. I'm not a particularly religious person, and have no real
knowledge of the Muslim faith, other than what we read to Alex in a
beautiful book called Muhammad
On the bus ride back, we noticed an interesting architectural phenomenon. From the highway, we could see rows and rows of unfinished brick high rises. These were windowless, crude, and seemed to be held together by chewing gum, with metal rods jutting out of the top. Someone asked Amy why these buildings all looked unfinished and she explained that the building owners do not have to pay tax on them until the buildings are finished, so they never finish them. People live in them, but as long as they remain in a perpetual state of construction, they go untaxed. These were, by far, the ugliest buildings I have ever seen in my life. Even the government-issue high rises in Beijing have a sort of utilitarian look to them and look like people could actually live in them. These were like mud huts stacked on top of each other, going up about ten or twelve stories. There was not just one block of these, but it looked like about a quarter of the city lived in these unfinished high rises with no windows. They looked like giant, vertical tombs.
Three hours later, our busload of sleeping passengers arrived back
in Alexandria, but Alexandria had been transformed by nightfall. At
night, all the shops are open and the dismal buildings are lit up with
colorful neon signs. It looked like a street fair or some kind of
festival was going on down the main street, and there were lots of
families with kids taking walks, people hanging out in a hubbub of
activity. It looked like a fun place to be, with street vendors and
food stalls, and music permeating the air. Cloaked by the darkness,
the buildings did not look so bad. It was too bad we didn't have the
chance to stop and take a look around.
We bought a few more trinkets as we boarded the ship, and had a buffet dinner and an early bedtime. I had mixed feelings about our trip to Egypt. In some ways, it exceeded my expectations and was much better than I had hoped it would be. The vendors at the pyramids were annoying, but compared to the fear that I had going in, they could have been worse. I was expecting Cairo to be like Delhi, where poverty and misery invade every aspect of the city. Cairo reminded me more of Buenos Aires or New York--there were newly built, modern structures, along with older, nice areas that seemed to have a bit of faded glory to them, some middle class areas, and high rises with lots of poor people in them. Cairo itself was mysterious and enchanting, while the pyramids left me feeling a bit sad.
I am so glad that we didn't let fear get in the way of experiencing a truly unique and special part of the world. One of the things I love most about traveling is the unexpected joys of seeing a new place, of having your preconceived notions and stereotypes shattered. Sometimes, the things you fear most are the things that you end up loving, and the things that you can't wait to see are a disappointment. If you travel with an open mind and an open heart, you always come away richer for the experience.
