after getting a quick tour of the city, being stared at by passerbys, nearly causing accidents when other drivers heads turned, noticing their whiteness (or in bryn's case, orangeness) , the two made it safely to... a huge office building? it turns out that their hostel shared a space with offices, a bank, and a travel agency amongst other things. they were shown to their room by a boy that looked around the age of 15, but spoke better english than their 45 year old taxi driver. upon entering, the two noticed that there where 4 huge beds & instantly asked how many people they would be sharing the room with over the next 3 nights. they were pleasantly surprised to hear they had the room to themselves along with a connecting bathroom & cable tv with multiple english movie channels. the two tried a new bed each night. after a long day of travel and pounding a couple bottles of water, the two found themselves fast asleep.
bryndia awoke early the next morning with big plans. desert! camels! pyramids! oh my! the two were served hard boiled eggs and nescafe in the lobby as the owner of juliana organized a driver for the day. india was worried. were they cheating on the cairo experience by just getting a driver to shuttle them around? shouldn't they try to figure out public transport? or at the very least, hail their own cab? this was before she realized that white folks in cairo are forced to depend on the guidance of locals. case in point: juliana's owner not only set up a driver for them, but made it his personal responsibility to book their bus tickets out of cairo. how sweet.
at 10 am sharp, bryndia met their driver, and soon, homie, yahya. they told him, pyramids, ho! and the three were off, zooming through cairo's busy streets, the nile at their side. yahya bumped some egyptian jams and told bryndia about the rules of cairo traffic. "there are 25 million people here, my friends. that is why each driver is allowed to kill three people in road each day! you see? how men just run out in front of cars? like they want to die! they crazy! how many you want to kill today? three? yes? ok! we kill three!" bryn laughed. india covered her eyes.
after about a twenty minute ride, bryndia was spit out in a dusty square and told by yahya, here! yes! you are! the two were shocked at how close the pyramids were. really? right here? they had anticipated an hour deep into a barren desert. on the contrary, the great structures were right in the city's backyard. they sat in a tiny concrete room while they were told about their options from their "secure, government approved pyramid tour agency." in a rush to see the sites, the two realized later, perhaps they were ripped off hard core on their first egyptian purchase. they paid their cash and met their guides: one, a teenage boy, young but enthusiastic. the other, a kid no older than ten, a mute, really, as he spoke no english. and a big camel with ringworm. and a crazy horse who really didn't like to be ridden.
and off they went! scuttling along the dirt road that led to the opening of the great sahara. but just as bryndia was going to really get going, they were stopped by a group of tourist police. they spoke loudly and heatedly, bullying bryndia's teenage tour guide in arabic. they turned to bryndia and demanded: how much did you pay for this tour? bryn answered and the guards smirked. shortly after, the young tour guide pulled cash from his pocket, paid them off, and the group was on their way. this became a reoccurring event. four times during their two hour tour did cash bribes get byrndia out of sticky situations. it seemed this was the way of the law.
the pyramids were beautiful. impressive. huge. but a two hour visit is more than enough. paying off guards to ascend the man made monsters is a must. galloping on horse back, playing lawrence of arabia, or aladdin, bobbing up and down on a spitting camel, is also pretty sweet. but by the time the sphinx came around, bryndia was dehydrated and exhausted. they trooped through the exit gates. their guide was insistant: are you happy? my friend? 10 out of 10 for happiness? yes?
yahya met bryndia back at the avis camel rental hub and ushered them into his air conditioned car. you know, said yahya, we are very close to my friends small museum. a nice museum. about papyrus paper and how you make. you want? shall we go? yes! sure we do! bryndia was fooled once again. the rest of the afternoon was spent being shuttled from yahya's friends papyrus museum to his brother's perfume shop to his cousin's flea market-esque hole in the wall store. each place they were greeted like kings. welcome, friends! america! let me tell you about my store! my shop! they were given "welcome drinks", customary in egypt... apparently. presentations of how to make paper, how to mix the perfect perfume, pictures of family members. every man was so friendly, every woman stared silently at them from behind their veil. after each show and tell, bryndia was told to buy something. everything was always special price! just for you! and they bargained and bargained and apologized for not buying more. and at each place, after purchasing, were given a gift, a small token of appreciation for their time.
the day was exhausting, with only one stop for a breather, at a buffet restaurant filled with egyptian goodies. yahya instructed bryndia on the choice options, on the best soups and desserts, and then joined them on the roof for a pipe of shisha. the waiters asked bryn, what flavor you want? i want the egyptian flavor! the one that every egyptian orders! bryn said. are you sure, my friend? very strong! very strong! yes i'm sure! bryn said. ten minutes later, his head was floating like a helium balloon. the men all laughed. they approved. bryndia ended their rooftop excursion posing for pictures in front of the pyramid view backdrop and bizarre taxidermy animals. here, a young busboy insisted on not only taking photos of bryndia with his camera phone, but posing for photos with india. she oblidged, flattered, thinking, how sweet. it turned sour when his hand moved quickly down to her ass and asked for one kiss, one kiss. they left quickly.
that night, yahya joined bryndia on a dinner cruise on the nile. the two sat in a crowd of one hundred sri lankan tourists, again, the only white kids in sight. they watched traditional turkish dancers, spinning in circles for minutes, their skirts dancing around them in blurs of color. and a bellydancer, who yahya insisted was one of his wives, with big lips and big breasts and long finger nails scream at the old indian men, yank on bryns long hair, and pull india up to dance for the audience. they ate rice and veggies and sweets and did it all sober. because alcohol is, of course, a no no in the muslim culture. after eating, bryndia enjoyed the rest of the cruise on the top deck, watching the dark nile move beneath them, a full moon hanging in the black sky.
bryndia awoke the next morning and headed off to the egyptian museum. they spent hours wandering through the long beige halls and marveled at king tuts jewelry collection. they mused on what they would be buried with. if they would mummify chloe and sugar when they passed. halfway through, the pair realized they were being followed by a small boy... or india was. creepily standing right behind her as she peered through the glass cases, smelling her back, breathing on her elbows. egyptian boys are horny.
after leaving the museum, the two wandered around cairo awhile longer, and indulged in some local food... pizza hut. what can they say? they have moments of weakness. familiar food can be comforting when one feels very different and far from home. the forty eight hours in cairo had been exhausting. not just because of their schedule or the crowded city, but because of their extreme difference. throughout the entire visit, they never saw women who were not completely covered, outside of tour groups. despite india wearing her most conservative clothing the whole trip, her head covered, sweating in a long sleeved shirt, india was oggled at constantly. aggressively stared at. pursued, despite being accompanied by bryn the entire time. more than once bryn was asked, how many wives? he would joke, five! i have five wives at home! well then, the inquisitor would ask, can i have this one? i give you many camels. they would all laugh, but bryndia could never tell if they were joking. blending in in europe was easy. here, their first non christian country, bryndia found it much harder. but hoped for a better understanding of different cultures and their norms as their trip continued.
before sunrise the next morning, the two caught a cab to the bus station. their long and nerve racking journey through sinai to taba, a mile walk to the border of elat in israel, and then north to tel aviv was going to be a trying one. they didn't know how long it would take, or how far it would be, but they had something great to look forward to at the end: two weeks on the beaches of tel aviv with judith chriqui and jew friends.
holy land! here they come!
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