Background & Cast
Rose-Louise had been planning a trip to Egypt where she worked for a couple of years.
Dina convinced me that I’d enjoy it.
Daniel and Erin also decided to join us.
I’m a bit short on the details of many of the sites.
The pictures should give a good idea of what interested me.
Also, I’m not sure I can adequately describe what I saw and felt.
Best idea is to ask Dina… she enjoyed herself more than I did, and is more effusive, verbal, and talkative about it.
We took 936 pictures with the SLR camera, and 122 with the digital camera.
I had a hard time dealing with the persistant haze.
All in all, not my best pictures.
Either way, a sampling of the Egypt trip pictures are here.
At some point, I’m going to migrate to more user-friendly gallery software.
Saturday, Sept 24
Dan, Erin, Dina, and I are on the same flight… Cairo via Amsterdam. Rose-Louise had a direct flight to Cairo on Friday.
Before we even get onto the plane, Erin hurts her ankle.
It’s the start of a series of small misfortunes.
After a long time waiting in line to check-in, we finally get on the plane to Amsterdam.
At least, while in line, we start to get some pictures of Jim’s Green Shoe.
A friend of Jim’s borrowed Jim’s green shoe for a cross-country trip.
We liked the idea and brought it along with us on ours.
All the people who asked us about it were impressed and amused with the idea.
Sunday, Sept 25
I have to say, that was one of the quickest hops across the pond that I’ve ever been on, both actual time and perceived time.
This despite the fact that I didn’t sleep much.
In Amsterdam, we stop at the airport pharmacy for an elastic brace for Erin’s ankle.
Then it’s off to sample the sights of Amsterdam.
Which is when it hits me.
I’m on vacation.
Amsterdam is a perfect way to ease into it.
Familiar enough that I know my way around well.
I’m back in a city that I have a sense of direction in.
I make a beeline to the train ticket counter and get us return tickets for the city centre.
On the platform, it hits me again.
I’m on vacation and free.
No need to worry about the stuff happening back home, or in the world for that matter.
Plans for Barney’s Breakfast Bar (coffeeshop that serves Irish breakfasts) are put on hold until the return trip.
Instead we take a taxi to the Leidsplein and eat a sizable breakfast at that 24 hour pancake place.
It amuses me that I can refer to something like “that 24 hour pancake place [in the Leidsplein]” and have some people know the place I’m referring to.
After that, a quick trip to the Bulldog next door.
Yes… it’s the McDonald’s of coffeeshops… but it’s all that was open in the area.
While there, we got a bunch of amusing pictures of the Green Shoe.
We start the walk to the Rijksmuseum.
Daniel is agog at the public urinals. Also noting the legalized soft drugs and prostitution, he says something like:
Wow, this is a great city for American 20-somethings to run amuck.
Almost in the middle of his statement he spots a stack of hollow steel lampposts lying on their side alongside the canal.
He wanders up to one and starts yodelling “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”.
Then, realizing his unintentionally impeccable timing, he starts laughing.
The giggle-fit lasts minutes.
Days later, he still chuckles when remembering it.
The Rijksmuseum is another familiarly welcoming sight.
The masters collection, as always is beautiful.
Even on my 4th visit to the place, the Swan on the facing wall still captures my attention and leaves me feeling ambivalent about it.
Rembrandt’s Night Watch isn’t as striking in its current location. I seem to remember it being at the end of a much larger room, which somehow made the painting larger than life.
After the museum, the rest of the gang is getting tired.
They nap in Vondelpark. They’re freezing as the sun plays peek-a-boo through the clouds.
I’ve been looking forward to this vacation, and, specifically, this part of the vacation, for a while… so mind over matter: I’m not tired.
I walk around the canals for a while, and hit a coffeehouse, and then walk around some more.
Amsterdam is probably 2nd to Venice as my favourite walking city.
Lunch is at Wagamama’s.
It’s disappointingly worse than the one in London.
We then meander back to Central Station.
The Amsterdam newbies are surprised by the prostitutes in the red light district (prettier than expected, an actual red light in the window, efficiency of the setup).
Onto train. Back to Schipol. Onto plane.
Our 8ish hours of city time in Amsterdam are done.
A nice way to ease into the meat of our vacation.
The plane ride is uneventful.
I’ve slept less than 3 hours so far.
We land in Cairo.
The red tape takes some time, but our trusty guide from the travel agency, Ahmed, helps us through.
Getting tourist visas, even for the Canuck of the expedition, was as easy as pie.
We arrive at the Grand Hyatt. Sleep.
Monday, Sept. 26
We wake up at 9:30, shower and have breakfast.
The breakfast buffet is varied, exotic, and tasty.
It also has some very nice fresh fruit including dates, apricots, and figs.
Mmmm… fresh figs.
Back up to room. I stupidly decide to nap until noon when we’re supposed to meet Rose-Louise.
This means that I don’t feel up to waking up until 17:00. Sucky.
I miss the Egyptian museum.
Somehow, I don’t feel that it’s that great a loss.
I didn’t come on the trip to see museums.
I assume I’ll see all the fun stuff at the ancient sites we visit, and besides,
I’ve seen the British museum… they must have plundered all the good stuff, right?
Contributing to the fact that I didn’t want to wake up was that it was 40°C and hazy.
So, while I’m waiting for the others to get back, I relax.
I’m on vacation after all.
The view from the balcony of our room on the 23rd floor is marvellous.
It’s even prettier at night.
I take some pictures.
My tripod is broken… actually… it’s missing a screw.
As a result, I can’t easily point the camera at the subject.
Something to fix when I get home.
Next, some exercise, stretching, and lounging around the room.
We sync up. Difficult without cell phones.
Dinner is outside in the huge courtyard of the Mariot in Zemalek.
Tasty, and, more importantly, inexpensive.
Our powerful American dollars rule.
Unfortunately, the smoking area is full, so we can’t try sheesha (the traditional water pipes which you use to smoke flavoured tobacco).
Baksheesh. Egyptian word that means “tips” or “alms”.
People would want tips for pretty much anything.
There was all the normal things you expect to tip for.
Then, there was everything else imaginable.
People would want / expect tips for:
- Standing around a filthy outhouse.
- Getting in your pictures while at ancient sites.
Once I actually tried to tip someone to get out of the way of a shot I wanted to take.
He didn’t understand despite repeated attempts on my part.
- Pointing at completely uninteresting views or details at tourist sites.
- Standing beside an interest bit of an ancient site, doing nothing.
- Allowing you to take pictures in a no picture area.
On top of this, there was a constant discussion of how much to tip our guides (formally known as “Egyptologists”), drivers, and ‘security’ personnel.
If we liked our guides and they told us nice stories, we’d tip them better than the guides we didn’t like and who didn’t tell as good stories.
The problem is, we have no idea how well we tipped.
We could have been anywhere from the stingiest tourist bastards on the planet to the most stupidly generous idiot tourists they’d seen in a while.
We had no frame of reference.
Given that, there was constant, wearing discussion and angst about what to tip.
Digression: At some point during the trip, I’d had it up to here with having to deal with people, and the discussions on having to deal with people. Everything from asking directions, finding out opening hours, and being the person who had to hand the tips to the tippees. I’ve decided that I’ve had enough with myself not wanting / liking dealing with the strangers that you need to interact with every day. From now on, I’m just going to deal. The reality of dealing with the people is nowhere near as bad as my dread of doing it makes it out to be. I’m not necessarily aiming to like doing it, I have some intrinsic traits that I don’t want to change that make it difficult for me to like doing it, but I aim to get good enough at it to have it be a neutral experience on the whole.
Tuesday, Sept. 27
Today, it’s off to Alexandria on the Mediterranean coast (have I mentioned that I think Alessandro or Alessandria are nice names for kids… I’ve wanted to have a daughter named Alex for a while now).
Rose-Louise is visiting friends in Cairo, so it’s just the 4 of us.
Getting a train ticket is an adventure.
The concept of a line or queue seems completely foreign to Egyptians.
Proper protocol is to push your way to the front of the line and then wave your money through the glass.
Finding the right platform is an adventure.
Part of the problem is that Egyptians are very helpful people.
Another part of the problem is the language barrier.
The last part of the problem are the Egyptians that, though helpful, are out to make a profit, and may not be acting in your best interests.
Needless to say, we are told 3 different platforms.
We finally get onto the right train. Alas, it’s not an express train, adding about an hour to our journey.
There had been some debate as to whether to go 1st class or not.
Going 1st class was the right decision.
First stop, the Fortress of Qait Bey, a 15th century fortress built on the site where the great lighthouse once stood.
Nice walk around, nice view.
Here is where we (or at least I) have my first encounter with the Tourist Police.
They’re people dressed in white uniforms, with guns, that look like police officers.
Except, as tour books have mentioned, they’re supposed to be helpful.
In fact, many supplement their income by helping tourists and asking for tips.
It’s odd to have someone that I’ve mentally classified as ‘policeman’, aka ‘someone I must listen to’ asking me to do things I don’t want to do, or explaining, in rudimentary English, a bit about the fortress.
As a person who tends to like meandering and doing things on my own, I find these people quite annoying.
The cognitive dissonance attached to their status makes it worse.
By the end of the trip, most of us have become masters at avoiding eye contact and completely ignoring people.
I feel bad for doing it, but the alternative is worse.
What bugs me the most is that people touch me, pull me, and push me unasked.
The women, at least, do not have this problem, as the locals know not to touch women.
The one time someone touched Dina, she screamed at them and they pretty much backed straight off.
So… in describing the fortress, I have about 1 sentence of fortress and the rest of the paragraph devoted to annoyances.
This seemed to be Egypt in a nutshell for me.
The places and sights were beautiful.
The sun, sand, heat, and mosquitoes were minor annoyances.
Hard to believe if you’ve ever met me, but true.
The people, culture, and language barrier were frustrating to the point where they were detrimental to my vacation.
Quite a shame actually, since I tend to enjoy exploring new cultures when I’m on vacation.
In fact, vacations are one of the few times I feel naturally outgoing and chatty with strangers.
Anyway… back to the narrative.
Kudos / sympathies if you’re still reading.
We head to a restaurant that Dan’s read about in the guide.
Walk into a little open-air room with fish laid on ice.
Pick fish. Fish get cooked outdoors at the restaurant.
We think that the fishmonger was happy with us since we were adventurous and picked a decent sampling of fish.
We ate salad at the restaurant also, despite general warnings from our guide books and travel clinic doctors not to.
All in all, fish were quite tasty… no complex preparation… nicely spiced, and expertly cooked. Mmm.
Next adventure, finding a taxi to the Catacombs.
Some didn’t want to bring us there.
Others wanted to charge us wildly different rates, as Egyptian taxis don’t have meters.
Figuring out how much to pay for a taxi was another sore point during our trip.
It didn’t help that we had enough different personalities on the trip that it made bargaining with a single voice difficult.
There were obviously times where there was a win-win price.
Low enough so that us insanely rich tourists didn’t care how much we spent, and high enough so that the taxi drivers could not only make a living, but be quite happy with their fare.
Finding that price proved surprisingly elusive at other times.
Somehow, we managed to squish 4 or 5 people into cars smaller than ours.
We finally get to the the Catacombs. Largest Roman burial site in Egypt.
It’s construction was pretty impressive.
It includes a picnic area / banquet hall where relatives of the deceaseds would gather for funeral feasts.
It had a wonderful mixture of Egyptian / Greek / Roman art decorating some of the tombs.
You’d have the traditional Egyptian scenes of mummification, sun, and Egyptian gods.
Yet, flanking the doors would be a soldier in a tunic with a Roman spear and shield.
In yet another place, a shield and the head of the Medusa were portrayed.
After that, off to admire the new, modern Library of Alexandria.
Unfortunately, it was from the outside, since the Library is closed Tuesdays.
Next, meandering over to the Roman Forum, which closed a ½ hour earlier.
Yes… we didn’t plan that well. So, back to meandering through the city.
It’s supposed to have some great pastry shops.
We try and find some of the ones mentioned in our guide. Many look closed or dingy.
The one we finally find is an OK place to stop and rest for an hour or so before our train leaves.
Pastries aren’t that good, but at least they have Turkish coffee, which is one of the things that kept us awake and going on the trip.
We wander back to the train station, still in that ‘tourist-in-a-new-country’ daze.
Everything is still fascinating and exciting despite the minor annoyances.
We get back and get in touch with Rose-Louise.
Midnight reservations at Abu Sid, a nice ex-pats restaurant.
Food is tasty. Especially since some of it is tripe.
After dinner, we try Sheesha.
Tasty, but as usual, tobacco goes to my head in ways that I don’t like.
Wednesday, Sept. 28
Our guide books euphemistically refer to the Egyptian flavour of traveller’s diarrhea as “The Pharaoh’s Curse”.
Well… on Wednesday, the curse hits us.
Dina’s the hardest hit.
We assume it’s come from eating at the fish restaurant.
In the morning, we’ve arranged for a tour of the Red, Step, and Bent pyramids in Dashur / Saqqara.
Hadi is our Egyptologist.
We quite like him.
He warms to the fact that we actually are interested in hearing the history and the stories about what we’re going to see.
One thing that pictures of the pyramids never seem to be able to portray is the sheer size of them.
Even the smallest ones are huge.
First stop, the Red pyramid, so called because it’s… well… reddish on the outside.
Inside is magical.
Walking up a tiny shaft, hunched over, stale air, quads killing you.
Dina in her weakened state somehow made it in.
Looking up and realizing there are thousands, if not millions of tonnes of rock above your head.
Being thankful that architects from over 5,000 years ago did their job so well that everything is still standing and looks well preserved.
The hieroglyphics are crisp and beautiful, as if some knock-off artist carved them yesterday.
Next, the Bent pyramid, so called because it’s… well… bent. At some point, the angle of the pyramid sides change.
Apparently, this was intentional.
Last, the Step pyramid, so called because it… well… looks like it has 6 huge steps.
In reality, this is one of the first pyramids ever to be built.
Previous burial buildings were mastabas. Essentially square or rectangular, blocky buildings.
Imhotep, architect of the Step pyramid (and yes, villain in the “Mummy” movies with Brandon Frasier) decided to stack 6 mastabas one on top of the other instead.
Also of interest, the Red and Bent pyramids were just that. Pyramids rising out of the desert. The Step pyramid was a complete complex.
The parts of the temple that were still standing were amazing to me because the lines were all still beautifully straight and the joints between the stones was masterfully done. 5,000 years old, and they looked like some of the most solid things I saw while in Egypt (or anywhere for that matter).
Built to last doesn’t mean what it used to.
After that, a quick stop in what became a standard when taking tours… visiting the local craftsmen.
This time, a carpet shop.
Some beautiful pieces, but I’m not in the mood to spend thousands of dollars on something to walk on when I can get a machine-made version for 1/100th the price. The most expensive pieces they had, something like 4,000 knots per square inch, were $20,000 for a 3′x5′ rug. Youch!
The salesman at the carpet shop was inadvertently hilarious. A conversation something along the lines of the following occurred.
Nick & Dan are milling around, vaguely looking at carpets.
Salesman: Which carpet are you interested in?
Nick: Attempting to get salesman to leave me alone
I don’t know. My wife’s the one who’s interested in stuff like this.
Salesman: Where’s your wife?
Nick: Bathroom. There she is coming out now. Waves
Salesman: To Dan Where’s your wife?
Dan: I don’t have one.
Salesman: Why not?
Dan: shrug
Salesman: You’re old enough. You should find a wife.
Dan: shoulders slump Uhm. Yeah.
Afternoon time means nap time for the others.
It’s amazing how walking in the desert can tire you out.
Knowing what happened last time I took a nap in the middle of the day, I decline and walk around the hotel, take some pictures, and read a bit.
Dina stays at the hotel in bed.
The rest of us head out the Khan El Khalili, the market.
Supper at a restaurant in the market consisted of tasty, tasty fresh fruit juices and lamb cooked in yogurt. Mmm.
Then, walking through the market.
Felt like a mixture of a lot of different places.
Camden town for some odd reason.
The bazaar that you see in every cliché movie that has an Arabian bazaar.
Also, oddly, it reminded me of the book “Neverwhere” by Neil Gaimen.
It had an odd, mystical air that if you stumbled through the wrong (or right) doorway, you’d be walking into a shadow, parallel, magical world.
Of course, maybe I’d discover a quaint little shop that would sell me a trinket (perhaps a lamp even) that turned out to be magical.
When I’d try to find the shop, I’d obviously find a dank, dusty hole in the wall that looked like it had been that way for eternity.
Or maybe I’d discover I read too many fantasy novels…
Either way, for the first time since Amsterdam, a feeling of comfort, of being in the right place washed over me.
I didn’t want to buy anything.
First, I’m on a mild anti-consumerism / we-have-too-much-shit kick lately.
Second, we were planning to come back to make sure Dina could see it.
She’d been hyped up on seeing Khan El Khalili for months.
Disney freak that she is, she’d been quoting Disney’s Aladdin to the detriment of my sanity… “Sugar dates and figs! Sugar dates and pistachios!”. Her, and Rose-Louise’s favourite… “It broke.”
Fittingly, they were selling sugar dates, figs, and pistachios.
Saw a beautiful mortar and pestle.
Metal. Really heavy.
I’ve been wanting a massive mortar and pestle ever since I saw Smooth’s beautiful stone mortar and pestle from Mexico.
This was my chance!
Cost, 500 Egyptian pounds… not bad… about $85, and that could probably be bargained down to $50.
Hmmm… what’s it made out of? Brass and lead you say? Uhm… maybe not.
2′ to 3′ tall sheesha pipes are 75 Egyptian pounds or less. That’s about $13. I considered bargaining them down to about $10 each and getting 3 for various friends who might enjoy the taste of flavoured tobacco.
At one point, as a bit of ugly-Americanism, I though I might try the shtick of compulsively rubbing every lamp I saw…
Didn’t feel I could pull it off with sufficient physical comedy for it to be truly funny…
Next, off to see Carlito, a friend of Rose-Louise’s who owns a silver jewelry shop.
I noticed he had a old, silver puzzle ring, and commented on how beautiful it was.
He offered it to me.
During my afternoon reading, I happened on the topic of generosity in Culture Shock. This means that, for once, I was ready to handle an odd interpersonal situation.
I declined.
He insisted.
Just as the book noted was supposed to happen.
The book notes that if someone insists a 3rd time, you should actually accept the gift.
So… it’s up to one of us to find a creative excuse.
I decline the ring, noting that my wedding ring is the only one I need.
He smiles politely and puts his ring back on.
Overall, an enjoyable exchange.
Thursday, Sept. 29
In the morning, we sleep and pack. It’s a late start.
It may sound like we sleep a lot, but 6 hours of sightseeing in the desert heat is taxing.
Today we’re off to the Citadel and Mohammad Ali mosque.
The traffic to and fro is atrocious.
Even Rose-Louise can’t remember it being this bad.
It doesn’t help that the air is hot, stagnant, and pollution-heavy.
We’re feeling somewhat better by now.
The antibiotics are working.
At some point I take a picture of the pills I’m taking in one day.
- 1 Levaquin (antibiotics).
- 2 Benadryl (lotsa dust).
- 1 Zyrtec (allergies).
- 1 Multi-Vitamin.
- 2 Pepto Bismol.
- 2 Immodium.
Important lesson learned on this trip: There is no such thing as a travel-sized bottle of Immodium.
Time to hop the plane to Aswan to begin our Nile cruise.
The usual airport and taxi adventures ensue.
After a quick flight, we check into the Old Cataracts hotel.
Beautiful.
We get to the Old Cataracts 1892 Restaurant just before closing.
Visually beautiful. Food was good.
They don’t seem amused, but we’re hungry.
Back to our rooms, do a quick wash / rinse of some of our clothing, since we decided to pack light for the trip.
Even though we understand it intellectually, it’s still pretty amazing how fast things dry in this climate.
Friday, Sept. 30
Whee! Clocks fall back 1 hour.
We vote for a lazy morning before getting to our cruise ship.
It’s 42°C. The water is 26°C.
I take a quick dip in the pool and then give up and go sit on the terrace.
The view is stunning.
Erin is in love with the surroundings.
I burn through a roll of film without standing up.
Most of the pictures on the roll are good, which is a testament to the photogenic landscape (as opposed to my prowess with a camera).
Off to our cruise.
We’re welcomed with Sacadeh… hibiscus juice.
Tasty, perfectly refreshing in the hot dry climate, and apparently, good for you too.
In the afternoon, we tour Aswan.
Our Eygptologist for the whole cruise is Ranya.
She seems a bit burnt out, and as such, is a bit blasé about things.
First, the High Dam.
We would’ve been impressed with the engineering if we hadn’t seen 5,000 year old structures a couple of days ago.
I’m amazed at the amount of historical destruction the Egyptians were willing to incur in order to dam the Nile.
Sad yet necessary.
Next, boat to Philae Temple. Moved to an island from a site that was about to be flooded by the Dam.
The temple near the Step pyramid seemed like it was dead… a skeleton if it’s former self.
This temple seemed alive. Slowly enduring time, but still vibrant enough to show tourists its former glory.
I guess it helped that Philae Temple was less than ½ as old as the Step pyramid.
Dina decides to go to the Unfinished Obelisk while the rest of us decide to explore the temple more.
Ranya didn’t mention the cool things at the site such as carvings of ostriches (Africa) and dolphins (Mediterranean) or a work order for a number of obelisks carved into a granite wall. Had I known, I might have gone.
The obelisk is unfinished because it cracked while they were carving it.
It’s assumed to have cracked because the workers didn’t support the underside properly as they were carving it.
At this point, misfortune.
Dina attempts to step across a gap between the stones.
Her skirt hampers her stride, and shortens it just enough to make her miss the next stone and fall.
The bump / bruise in her leg lasts over a month.
From a materialistic standpoint, her treasured little digital camera falls and breaks.
We throw it into the bottom of our luggage in the vain hope of having it fixed when we get home.
I’m pretty sure that Dina’s poor camera is unrepairable.
We’ll have to ship it off to a farm somewhere, where it can spend its days relaxing and taking pictures of all the pretty animals and pets.
Finally, the craft stop. This time it’s a perfume shop.
I normally hate perfume, but there are some things here that I just feel like I should smell: lotus, papyrus, patchouli, mint, sandalwood, frankincense and myrrh. No gold for some reason.
After much deliberation, we buy 4 bottles between the 3 of us.
Back to the boat, and lounging around.
I order a gin and tonic… no… make that a Beefeater and tonic. 48 Egyptian pounds. About $8.50. Youch. After the cheap prices we’ve become used to in the scant 5 days we’ve been here, this price is stunningly expensive.
Doesn’t matter. I still feel like a privileged spoiled British colonialist.
This is my 3rd cruise.
I think they’re a wonderful balance of doing a lot of sightseeing plus enough relaxing to help you get the most out of your sightseeing.
Supper is eh.
Afterwards, Nubian entertainment.
Consists of drums, chanting / singing, and dancing.
It’s too loud, so I flee to the comfort of technology and quickly check email.
Apparently, the entertainment gets better after I leave.
Dina was dragged up on stage and did some dancing that involved holding sticks up between her and another dancer using her belly and forehead.
In email, I learn that 3 coworkers… about ½ of the development staff, has quit my current company to go work at VistaPrint where I used to work.
I try to sleep, but I can’t. Erin, Dan, and I all suspect that at supper they gave us caf, not de-caf as requested.
Saturday, Oct. 1
In the morning, we see Kom Umbo temple.
Again, beautiful.
The hieroglyphs are beautiful.
After a while, you start to understand the generalities of what each scene on the temple wall is depicting.
Some of the paint is still present here and there. In some cases you can see the red grid-lines that the painters used to guide their paintings.
On the way out we’re accosted by merchants.
2 pounds for a galabea, essentially a long Egyptian shirt.
We look at each other.
There’s some sort of dress-up on the boat for tonight’s evening entertainment, and $0.34 for a costume, even if it’s used only once, is f’ing cheap.
But… we need to get back to the bus / boat, so we grudgingly pass.
Fast forward into the future.
At some point, another merchant offers us something for 1 pound.
We’re in the mood for cheap souvenirs… so sure! Why not?
We take out an Egyptian pound.
The hawker looks at it and says “No. 1 pound sterling.”
A-ha!
The galabea and carvings weren’t all that cheap after all.
From then on, we notice that some merchants specify “Egyptian pounds” and some don’t.
If a deal sounded too easy, or too good to be true, it probably meant that they were asking for pounds sterling.
Bah!
A quick nap since I didn’t sleep well the night before.
At this point, I notice my contacts are torn.
Bummer. The sun is so bright that I was wearing contacts + sunglasses.
Back to regular old glasses.
We have a BBQ lunch sitting on the ship’s deck.
It’s nice to sit and watch the banks of the Nile pass by.
The movement of the ship also creates a nice breeze, adding to the effect.
Peaceful yet vibrantly alive.
In the afternoon, Edfu, yet another beautiful temple.
Hieroglyphs as usual were beautiful.
It’s interesting to notice details such as indentations for wooden door hinges.
Looking at pictures, it seems like everything is open.
That’s only because rock stands the test of time much better than wood.
Time to buy film.
I bargain somewhat, but not well enough.
Some kids are hawking 2 carvings for 1 pound.
As much as I don’t want any carvings, the utterly cheap price (18 cents) for 2 of them actually made me pause.
More on that later though.
A forgettable dinner, and then sleep… which was difficult to come by yet again.
Erin bought a 3-pack of notebooks to use as a travel journal.
She gave one to Dan and one to myself.
The notes, obviously became the basis for this blog entry (so… if it’s too long… blame my enabler).
Anyway… in my notebook here:
Tipping… how does it work? Have we been under tipping or over tipping? No clue.
I don’t remember exactly what happened, but obviously this was a recurring theme.
Sunday, Oct. 2
In the morning, Karnak & Luxor temples.
How many different ways are there to say stunning?
I think I should learn to take better pictures, stop writing, and just photo-blog my next trip.
In the afternoon, we have a group planning clusterfuck session.
While it may have been useful and necessary, I don’t like meetings much, so it was, on some level, torture.
At least we had a wonderful setting for the session… sitting atop our boat, beautiful vistas and climate.
Plus, occasionally, the topic of conversation would shift to just shooting the shit… which was nice.
While we’re here… it was nice to obverse a Muslim country.
Just as there are many levels of devotion to Christianity (the main religion in the USA), there are different levels of devotion to Islam in Egypt.
It’s interesting to experience, since the media tends to portray the level of devotion as uniformly high.
On the other hand, apparently a lot of Egyptians tend to think that Americans are uniformly evangelical Christians since, again, that is what is portrayed in the media.
I keep having to remember that the average is an aggregate statistic… the individual data points that contribute to that average are varied and interesting in their own right.
We stay on the boat for high tea.
I think I try 5 different varieties of tea.
Needless to say, with all the hydration due to the climate and the disgusting state of most bathrooms, I’m happy that I’m a guy.
Once night falls, we walk along the bank of the Nile to the Mummification Museum.
Small, basically one room, but worth it.
I break out my 800 film since it’s a no-flash kinda place.
The wooden coffins are beautifully painted.
I tend not to imagine vivid colours when picturing ancient art… I think this museum may have cured me of that.
On our way back to the boat, we stop at the market.
Dan buys some canoptic jars. He bargains the merchant down from 550 Egyptian pounds to 150 Egyptian pounds for a set of 4
He even gets a smaller set of 4 thrown in.
I like the jars, but I tend to like symmetry… which means that in many cases, I actually prefer machine-made to hand-made.
Then, I find a nice set that tickles my fancy… slightly bigger. 1,500 Egyptian pounds.
I figure I’ll start low. 200 Egyptian pounds. We talk back and forth a bit, but he doesn’t counter offer.
So, I stand firm at my price.
After a few minutes, the shopkeeper has had enough.
I’m insulted!
Don’t talk to me about price.
You can leave my shop.
That last sentence said with an unarguable air of finality.
Dina walked into the store just as the merchant started the outburst and was slightly stunned.
I’m not sure whether to about the exchange… nothing? mild pride?
Probably best that I feel like an idiot for not knowing how to bargain better…
At least I didn’t end up with an expensive set of canoptic jars.
Otherwise… the sellers are really pushy, which is a real turn-off.
I get that it may not work that way for all tourists, but I’m pretty sure that
I’d've bought more if I were allowed to browse in peace.
A lot of the things on sale at the markets were beautiful, well crafted, and inexpensive.
Culture Shock, mentioned above, is a good book.
It mentions that a male wearing earrings, in any ear, is generally considered gay (and, also, that homosexuality is both illegal and frowned upon in Egypt). I wonder how true that is.
Either way, it’s interesting that they leave that little tidbit of information to the very last chapter.
I feel like the Goldilocks and 3 bears of packing.
In some ways I’m over packed. In other ways I’m under packed.
Overall, I think I packed about right.
Too many socks, since my sandals are comfy and I can go sockless.
Not enough shirts and underwear, as I tend to go through them quickly in this heat.
Maybe 1 more pair of shorts.
Monday, Oct. 3
After a bit of messing around with the schedule, we finally get things squared away.
I mainly remember this day as a bunch of bullet points and pictures.
First, the Valley of Kings.
It’s really hot. About 45°C.
Thankfully, there’s a full eclipse which provides a welcome respite from the heat.
Before we blind ourselves by looking at the eclipse, Daniel pokes a hole in an Eclipse gum package and we follow the progress of the eclipse with shadows on the ground instead.
Next, onto the Valley of Queens.
Disappointing, as our guide earlier guide Hani mentioned it would be.
Then Queen Hatshepsut’s temple, the Colossus of Memnon, an alabaster shop (where, in retrospect, we may have wanted to buy something… pretty… especially the natural glow-in-the-dark stuff). Finally, a boat across the Nile to our cruise ship, the Nile Adventurer.
We grab our bags, say goodbye to the boat, and head off to the Old Winter Palace.
Yet another beautiful hotel.
The grounds seem like… well… an oasis.
We ate outside near the pool, then did high tea.
I washed some clothes and slept while the others went to see the sound & light show at the Karnak temple.
The threat of mosquitoes kept me away. I don’t think I missed much.
Tuesday, Oct. 4
Up before sunrise.
We take a boat across the Nile to hop a balloon ride.
I let my elbow be twisted the day before.
I think that Dan & Erin were in utter shock and disbelief when I mentioned that I didn’t want to go because I was price-sensitive.
Our balloon captain is bombastic.
Our balloon ride is short, barely the promised 35 minutes.
Still, wonderful views.
After that, back to the Winter Palace to meet our Egyptologist for the day, Hend (?sp?).
We see the Village of the Workers and the Workers Tombs.
The tombs have paintings instead of carvings.
Stunning colours.
I realize, about a week too late, that I should have been bribing the guards at each tomb where there is a no-pictures sign in order to get pictures.
We pass by a carving shop, where the artist is making replicas of the carvings in the tombs.
Again, very pretty.
At this point, Dan takes the plunge and leaves us to hike up Mount Quorn.
Our guide thinks that Daniel is crazy.
I’m so worried that we’ll have to take a dehydrated husk of a man to the hospital that I slam my head into the top of the door frame getting onto our little tour bus.
While Dan is hiking, we head to the Ramses III memorial tomb.
How many ways are there to call these things ‘beautiful’?
We retrieve Dan.
He’s tired but happy.
All that sightseeing and it’s only noon.
The afternoon is our oyster.
We nap, hang out at the pool, read, eat, and chat.
A lazy afternoon to digest the wonders that we’ve seen.
Hmmm… at some point we went to a papyrus shop.
Again, cool.
Again, we didn’t buy anything.
In some ways, I’m bummed that we didn’t do a major cleanup of our place before we left so we’d have more room for Egyptian trinkets.
Anyway… somewhere around 5PM, we make our way to the Old Winter Palace’s terrace, the perfect place to see the sunset.
A gin & tonic to relax and a Turkish coffee to keep me awake.
Being so close to the equator, the sunsets (and sunrises) are very fast (though, twilight lingers).
If you’re get engrossed in a conversation for even 5 minutes, you risk missing the show.
This was the first time I’ve watched both a sunrise and a sunset in the same day in decades.
We walk around the Luxor temple, and grab some food from little shops on the street, exactly what our guide books cautioned us against.
Doesn’t matter. Very tasty.
Cab to airport, and a quick flight to Sharm al-Sheikh, and a dishonest taxi driver for the ride to the 4 Seasons Resort.
Shame on the guards at the 4 Seasons Resort.
Instead of standing up for their customers they stood by and did… well… nothing useful.
Everything is soon forgotten.
This place is luxury.
The closet is about as big as a normal hotel room bathroom.
The bathroom is about as big as a normal hotel room.
The room itself is as good as it gets (well… as good as it gets for people like us).
The shower is superb. Wonderful water pressure and temperature control.
Peaceful sleep.
Wednesday, Oct. 5
Wake up.
Wonderful breakfast buffet.
Feels very luxurious.
I almost feel under dressed… well… not so much under-dressed as under-classed.
The resort is on the Red Sea.
Private beach, and private reef.
The eye-candy at the beach was so good I felt like I was on TV.
Next, snorkeling.
This was the 2nd time I did it.
The first time was scary.
I was panicked most of the time.
This time, thankfully, it went much better. Even ditched the life-jacket I started out with.
The high salinity helped a lot (except when I breathed it in or swallowed it).
When I was in deep water I realized that I would be OK as long as I didn’t panic. The thought of that was almost enough to make me panic.
We could have rented a digital underwater camera for $35.
We didn’t.
Dumb decision.
The reef was teeming with fish, big and small.
We saw a starfish, and a lion fish.
Some of the fish were a good 2′ in length.
If you just did a dead man’s float, some would come right up to you and say hello.
It was odd. It felt like a nature special on coral reefs.
I’d always thought that the shows edited out the boring parts when no fish were around.
There were no boring parts snorkeling that day.
3 hours of all-fish-all-the-time.
Next, an ATV ride into the desert for an encounter with the Bedouin.
Though the ATVs were fun, the experience was a complete letdown.
I felt very much like an Ugly-Canadian / Ugly-American (our term for sheltered, dumb-ass North American tourists).
I ran over a small bush. They were few and far enough between that I felt I should give it some water as penance.
The ATVs were loud, ruining any chance of serenity in the desert.
There was garbage everywhere. Wrappers, discarded water bottles… ick.
I had to resist buzzing a herd of camels that I saw plodding along.
Our encounter with the Bedouin consisted of us being served tea by a Bedouin.
No conversation.
We didn’t even get a package with food, which other people apparently did.
Back to the resort.
Our buffet was good, but not $71 good… except for one part… the water chestnut dessert.
Wow… it was colourful… crunchy… fruity… smoky… creamy… perfect blends of presentation, taste, smell, and texture.
Possibly the best dessert I’ve ever had… yes… better than chocolate.
I at least got my money’s worth weight-wise.
Ate about 1kg of food and drank about 2L (or kg) of water.
Apparently we hadn’t been hydrating during snorkeling and the ATV ride, unlike the rest of the trip when we’d all been pretty good about it.
A short nap… because…
We’re crazy.
About $100 per person for the rooms… and what do we do… we decide we’re going to hike Mt.-Sinai. Overnight.
So, while our wonderfully restful rooms are sitting back at the resort, paid for, we’re not in them.
Rose-Louise decides to forgo the hike and relax at the resort instead.
We are somewhat jealous.
We get a carry-out breakfast, complements of the resort.
However, we want to add a hard boiled each for protein.
There’s some confusion as to the exact pricing, but we pay either 70 or 140 Egyptian pounds for 4 hard boiled eggs.
That’s either $3 or $6 an egg. youch
Thursday, Oct. 6
Well… it’s still actually 11PM Wednesday, but I’m going to declare that our new day starts here.
We check out of our hotel… again, cursing ourselves for paying for a night at the 4 Seasons and not using it.
We hop onto our mini-bus and try to sleep with varying degrees of success.
At 2AM we arrive at Mt.-Sinai.
We’ve taken the camel package.
Time to pause.
For some reason, I pictured this as a quiet, peaceful hike up a mountain.
If I’d stopped to think, I’d've realized that there would be a tonne of tourists.
It was more like queueing to get to the top of Mt.-Sinai instead of hiking it.
The camels were a mixed blessing.
On one hand, it was better being on the camel instead of one of the people being jostled by the camels.
My camel repeatedly bumped into people… quite scary when it’s nearly pitch black outside.
At one point, it almost trampled a 6-ish year old girl.
On the other hand, camel saddles were designed by sadists.
My choices were to never father children again as my groin was mashed against the front pommel, or be paralysed from the waist down as the pommel behind me hammered into my spine. No matter which I chose, my thighs still ached from the constant jostling and the need to protect my waist and groin area.
The only thing more uncomfortable than riding a camel up Mt.-Sinai was… well… riding a camel down Mt.-Sinai.
For the next few days, my thighs hurt, the top of my ass-crack was chafed, and one of my lower vertebra felt bruised.
I’ve now ridden a camel. Hopefully I’ll never have to again.
Once I numbed myself to my mode of transportation, appreciation of the setting took over.
I was a bit bummed that our group got separated, but in some ways, it added to the oddly anonymous solitude of a large group of people.
The stars shone brightly above the bowl of the mountains with more and more of the sky becoming visible as we ascended.
Looking back down the path was beautiful, as we saw hundreds of wobbly pools of light cast by each hiker’s flashlight.
At 4:30 we get to the point where the camels can’t walk up anymore.
We walk.
It’s hard.
At 5:00, it starts to get lighter.
There’s a sense of urgency to get to the top of the mountain before sunrise.
At 5:30, the world wakes up, and the sun peeks up over the clouds which seem distant, yet below us.
Despite the throngs of people, it’s still oddly spiritual.
We somehow get down to the base of the mountain at 8:00.
A combination of camels and walking.
How this happens without us killing ourselves is beyond me.
We are completely wiped.
Our guide gives us some history of St.-Catherine’s.
It’s a stunningly well preserved 6th century church built around the 4th century church of St.-Hellina.
It also houses what is purported to be the burning bush (long since extinguished).
Unfortunately, we can’t take pictures inside, and we’re just too tired to appreciate what is probably one of the most awe-inspiring churches I’ve ever seen.
Never have I looked forward to sleeping on a bus as much as I did at 11AM that day.
Now, despite the complaining, this was one of the best and most memorable things I did on the trip.
Watching the sunrise with Dina was well, well worth it.
Life doesn’t get much better than that.
Time for some digressions.
Toilets everywhere were scarily gross.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen any in North America that even come close.
It wasn’t so bad as a guy who knew how to use Immodium.
I don’t know how the girls did it though.
On the way up the mountain, we had a Bedouin guide.
They were also driving our camels up and down the mountain.
Communication was difficult.
We had issues with figuring out payment for the camels on the way down.
Tiredness plus a fill of cultural differences and miscommunication from the previous week means I had to pretty much shut down when it came to dealing with locals. The oasis of the 4 Seasons Resort just highlighted the difficulties.
Rant time.
It used to be that a lot of places had no-flash signs.
People could take pictures as long as they didn’t use a flash.
With the advent of automatic cameras, this has changed.
Most people don’t bother to RTFM in order to turn off their flash.
A lot of historical sites now prohibit all photography.
F’ing frustrating for those of us who know how to use our cameras.
At some point today, we discussed toilet paper.
Cottennelle was described as leaving
Shit impregnated lint balls in my anal hair.
Maybe we got to know each other too well on the trip.
What seems wrong about our conversations is that they’re not Italian.
Instead, people stop speaking in order to hear others speak.
The Italian way is to have multiple conversations at once.
Talking and listening at the same time.
Which led to the following exchange between Erin & I:
Nick: WASPs are stack-based, Italians are multi-threaded.
Erin: That’s the closest I’m ever going to get to being called stacked.
Back to the airport.
Maybe not at this airport, but at some point, we had to form a phalanx around Rose-Louise, who was dealing with the ticket agent, in order to prevent other people from shoving in front of us.
Another quick flight back to Cairo.
A van to the Mena House. We can see the pyramids from our balcony.
We have a lazy afternoon and evening.
Friday, Oct. 7
Off to see the Giza Pyramids.
Dina and I are sick, with Dina bearing the brunt of the bacterial wrath.
In fact, Dina has been sick
both times we’ve visited the pyramids.
Erin thinks it’s because Dina called the pharaohs “punk-ass bitches” earlier in the trip.
The pyramids are massive.
They seem to weigh on both the landscape and one’s sense of perspective.
They lack hieroglyphs and other decorations, so they’re not as interesting as the ones in Dashur.
Went into one pyramid, saw two others.
Saw the Sphinx, but was too sick and tired at that point to go all the way down the hill.
Unfortunately, this means that we missed the canonical picture of the Sphinx in front of one of the pyramids.
Back to the hotel room to veg and pack.
I’m so done with the trip that I can’t be bothered to take pictures of the beautiful Mameluk bar at the Mena House.
We leave our bags at the hotel and visit Rose-Louise’s old boss’s farm.
He has a beautiful place. Erin takes advantage of the pool, and I take advantage of the hammock.
Next, we drop off our luggage at Rose-Louise’s friend Adrien’s house-boat.
The atmosphere of the house-boat is hard to describe. Vibrant and tranquil at the same time.
Next, off to the Khan el Khalili market.
On the way in, I grab a glass of sugar cane juice. 50 piastres.
That’s about 9 cents.
Tasty.
I should have ordered one of each of the 10 flavours they had for that price.
I don’t think I’ve ever been able to give myself a stomach ache for 90 cents before.
A quick snack, and we’re fuelled for the shopping and bargaining that lies ahead of us.
While on the topic of food, I’ll note that due to time constraints, we didn’t have time to investigate
the pomegranate seed, yogurt, & mango concoction that one of the restaurants seemed to be serving.
Dina is entranced and is enjoying the bargaining.
We pick up a bunch of souvenirs for friends and family.
We also pick up some candle-holders for ourselves.
I pass on the sheesha pipes.
I’m not in the mood to carry breakables on our trip back, nor deal with US customs, especially since we’re coming back from Amsterdam.
I also pass on a heavy ( ~ 5kg) mortar & pestle. 700 Egyptian pounds with lotsa room for bargaining.
The vendors frequently address Dina and I are in Spanish.
I’m impressed by the phenotype profiling until Daniel mentions that they do this to him too.
Back to the houseboat for luggage. We get to the airport early for our 2AM flight.
As is common of late, we are wiped.
Erin is mistaken for Dutch on the flight to Amsterdam. My eyes nearly pop out of my head when she says:
It’s nice to not be thought of as an American sometimes.
Saturday, Oct. 8
The plane from Cairo to Amsterdam is great. I sleep well. I even eat my crappy breakfast in a daze / doze.
In Amsterdam, Barney’s is full, dashing my hopes for an Irish breakfast along with something to smoke.
We meander, seeing everything from porn shops, hookers, canals, and coffeeshops.
I have a space cake, hoping to have a nice buzz for the plane ride home.
Unfortunately, it’s nowhere near as strong as the ones I’ve tried on previous trips.
Amsterdam is refreshingly comfortable and familiar.
A good and well-needed ease-off from Egypt.
I’ve been conditioned by Egypt.
Both in Amsterdam and on the plane, I still want to tip everyone.
I felt myself reaching for my wallet in order to tip the flight attendant for giving me headphones.
We wander aimlessly… in fact, we over-wander. I’m jittery about missing our plane, and unfortunately, let that rub off on Erin (sorry Erin, and sorry to Dina & Dan for subjecting them to that). We still get to the airport with time to spare (instead of my normal plenty-of-time to spare).
Security asks a lot of questions about our trip… basically verifying and cross-verifying our story.
Intelligent as far as I can tell… I think Bruce Schneier might be proud.
The flight home passes quickly thanks to movies on the seat-back screen. Mindless entertainment is good in my current, exhausted, state of body and mind. The body language book I bought in Amsterdam also helps pass the time.
Our bad airport karma continues when we land in Boston. We have to wait 30 minutes in the plane on the tarmac after landing.
Dina’s luggage is still in Amsterdam.
It’s humid.
There’s no sand anywhere.
The Red Sox lost.
We stop ourselves from dickering with the cab driver… though, we do have a nice chat with him… turns out he’s originally from Luxor.
Sounds like home to me.
I’ve been noticing the filters I have in place to sustain friendships.
The effort required to maintain the filters is starting to chafe.
The source of the chafing is uneven, but unfortunately cumulative, making me examine some filters and friendships I might otherwise be content with.
The heavy filters installed over the years for Person1 cause the majority of the chafing.
Though I like him, our views of reality differ wildly.
He doesn’t like to hear alternate views of reality, either doing the mental la-la-la-can’t-hear-you bit, or outright rejecting my views.
Though I don’t have a monopoly on diagnosing reality, I’m pretty sure I’m closer to ‘right’ and he’s closer to ‘out of touch’.
It’s difficult to communicate with him.
Person2, a private person, has issues with the delivery of some bits of my personality.
OK… he also has issues with some of the substantive parts of my personality, but I’ve happily committed to changing those, and he’s appreciative of that.
I think he’s a bit high-variance of late, so I’m making allowances for that.
He’s also perceptive enough that if he reads this he should know this is about him (I don’t think any of the other 3 will figure things out).
He’s also committed to self-improvement.
I’m not sure what to make of things with Person3.
He is also a very private person.
So much so that expressions of concern are taken as nosey and insulting, even when I’m have my filters on high.
This one is chafing me, not because of the filter itself, but because I have no idea what to do to get our friendship working.
I guess this one requires patience as we figure out the foundations of our friendship.
Person4 shouldn’t really be here, because he isn’t a friend, long ago having pushed into enemy territory by his unacceptable behaviour.
In the interest of maintaining social harmony, filters are in place to prevent me from telling this person in loving detail how they can go fuck themselves.
The filters chafe, and I long for the day I can throw them out the window.
Unfortunately, they’ve been in place for years and years, so it looks like the status quo for a long, long time.
It bothers me that English doesn’t have an ‘unspecified gender’ pronoun. The male gender is used throughout this blog entry for convenience.
