Why haven't I written about Egypt yet? Well. First, I'm lazy. Second, I have been busy. Sort of. Third, my mind's been focused on other things, like how in the hell I'm going to get myself out of here again. Fourth, writing about Egypt is going to be hard, because while it was quite literally the trip of a lifetime (as in, I've wanted to go for my whole life and it's extremely probable that I will never go again), it was also at times extremely frustrating, or frightening, or just plain weird. And the thing is, traveling to Egypt was important to me. I didn't want to churn out a "Here's what I did and ate, enjoy some pictures", and be done with it.
I went to Egypt, and afterwards I arrived in grateful exhaustion at Dulles' Custom's Counter none the worse for wear. I had had a marvelous adventure, and was riding The Biggest High Ever from actually getting to see the freaking Pyramids a few days before. But as a friend said when discussing her recent solo trip to Jordan: (paraphrasing, sorry Mallory) "I had a great time. But I realized while I was there that I was vulnerable." She said (I think I remember her saying) that she was so glad she went, but that she probably wouldn't put herself in that same situation again.
That is exactly how I feel about my trip to Egypt.
On that note, let's finally try and begin.
I don't think I've ever felt so unsure and unprepared as I did getting on the plane from Istanbul to Cairo. The travel thrill was up and running at full speed, because let's face it, it is fucking awesome to look up at the Arrivals Board and see your flight number next to the word "Cairo". But I really didn't know what I'd be facing, and I was worried. Plain and simple.
The short flight was fine, and before I knew it, I was on Egyptian soil. Or at least, tarmac. I walked into the Domestic Terminal feeling very much like Alice... but wow. I'm not sure what I expected, but this sparkling clean and completely fucking empty airport is not what I had in mind at all. I actually thought for a minute that there might have been some sort of attack or crisis that had happened while I was in the air. Where on earth was everybody?
I bumbled around and eventually got my visa sticker and passport stamp. Gigantic Hooray! It was weird and confusing only because it was so damn easy. No lines at either counter, and I was legit in a very small room all by myself with two friendly Customs guys, getting that all-important stamp. They joked with me about where my husband was, and one guy tried on my sun hat which he though was hilarious. And then I was through, stamped and stickered and legit in Egypt. Holy hell.
I found my gate for the Aswan flight in the utterly deserted airport, and then got myself a very much-needed beer at the cafe next door. So far, so good. I still had butterflies the size of velociraptors, but I was over the first big hurdle and feeling optimistic.
I went down the stairs to my gate... to see that I was the only woman there and also the only white person. Everyone else there was an Egyptian man in their traditional dress, which looks a lot like a long pajama shirt but I won't call them pajamas because that is probably insensitive. I sat discreetly away and buried my nose in my book, which is my standard defense against unwanted attention in a public place. The waiting area continued to fill up, and soon there were a handful of other women including a handful of tourists. Yay, solidarity!
We flew to Aswan. And there, in Aswan's tiny dilapidated airport, I had my first hiccup. Sisyphus didn't come out on the baggage carousel with all the other bags, and as I stood there wondering how to handle this latest development, a couple airport guys started asking me questions and I began to understand that, because I had flown internationally, even though I'd gone through customs in Cairo, my bag was in a completely separate room, which they eagerly escorted me to.
And here it was that I had my first brush with the one thing that I ended up just completely hating about Egypt. Baksheesh. Baksheesh is the Arabic word for tip, and it's one I really got to loathe during my nine days in the country. This one porter was so aggressive about carrying my bag it was frightening. I grabbed it off the floor and literally had to keep pushing his hands away as I got it strapped around me. I made it clear I didn't need or want his help, but the guy stuck to me like a barnacle as I went out and found my car waiting for me. (Oh blessed lord thank you!), and then he tried to pull the backpack off my shoulders while I still had the waist belt buckled. And then, after all that, when I was flustered and stressed and totally at sea, he got right in my face and stuck his hand out for a tip. I tipped him a few coins to get him away from me, except he refused to move and kept saying "too little too little." This fucker actually tried to keep me from opening the car door, and the driver didn't help. I eventually got in and we drove away as he continued to shout after us. Fucking lovely, dude.
Ugh. So as I'm shaking and trying to take stock of all my stuff and make sure the guy didn't rob me while I was all distracted, my driver is chatting me up and trying to convince me to go with him to this bazaar instead of taking me straight to my hotel. I politely declined, and thank heaven he did indeed take me to the door of El Salam Hotel.
Aswan and its environs, in the southern Egyptian desert, is absolutely stunningly beautiful. It is also stricken with poverty, and as I drove through the city I probably had one of the biggest "Holy crap what am I doing here??" moments of my entire life. We got to my hotel... and that feeling did not abate one bit. The owner was nice and I felt pretty safe at least, but this was unquestionably one of the strangest and dumpiest places I had ever stayed. It was also largely empty, which didn't help with the whole "Shining in the desert" vibe.
Oh yeah. I hadn't said. Aswan was... hot. Unbelievably hot. Like 110 degrees in the shade hot during the middle of the day. At least when I checked in it was getting to be early evening, but there was no AC in any of the common areas and I felt like I was moving through an oven. It's a cliche but that's also exactly how it felt. Like I was being slow-cooked. The next person who says anything about dry heat not being bad is getting a punch to the throat.
El Salam was across the street from the Nile, so that was kind of extremely awesome.
Anyway, I checked into my horrible little room and asked the front desk guy about where to go for dinner. He suggested... KFC or McDonald's. I am serious. I said I was looking for somewhere a little more authentic, and he gave me these complicated directions to a cafe his friend owned. I thanked him and decided to ignore his directions in favor of staying on the main road.
Before I got dinner, I wanted to secure a couple of beers to drink back at the hotel later. But... you can't buy beer at a market in Egypt. I didn't know this. I stupidly thought it would be like Turkey, where beer is scarce in restaurants but readily available in little shops to be found all over. Wrong. I walked for probably not very long but it was starting to seem like an awfully long time to me. My death stare was getting wobbly from being held so stiffly for so long. Just as I was giving up, I saw a dude outside this little kiosk thing. I asked if he had beer, and he did!! Yaaaay! He charged more than twice per can than what I had paid at the Cairo airport, but I so did not care. I stuck the two cans in my backpack and went to get dinner.
Yeah, it was only after I got back to my hotel that I realized I had paid 70 EGP for two cans of non-alcoholic beer. My record of savvy monetary dealings in Egypt was not looking good thus far.
However. Dinner happened to be amazing, so that was lucky. And, they had beer. Real beer. Wondrous. I had a very tasty plate of "chicken with rice and herbs" and a friendly waiter who managed to both put me at ease and not bother me. The restaurant was outside, on a legit floating pier on the Nile River. I watched the cruise ships and felucas sail past and finally began to really smile. I had made it! I was in Egypt! And tomorrow, I would actually get to be on one of those boats!
I finished up and went back to my hotel, where I discovered the beer fiasco and so decided to try my luck at the expensive-looking hotel across the street, in the hopes that they might have a bar. I was afraid to venture far afield, but it was only something like 9:30 and the idea of spending hours just sort of sitting around in my awful little room or the slightly less-awful but more-awkward lobby was not appealing.
The hotel did indeed have a lovely outdoor bar right on the river. I got a glass of wine and amused myself as the bar's only other patron was a woman in Muslim dress who was enjoying a hookah by herself. I felt like we should fist-bump or something. It was blissfully quiet and I got some good journal writing in, until one of the sailors on a docked feluca began to chat me up and refused to be dissuaded by any of the conventional and increasingly pointed signals that I wanted to be left alone. He told me his name was "Habibi", but as chance would have it, that is one of the few Arabic words I know and it means "sweetheart." I laughed and told him there was no way I was calling him sweetheart.
I got back into my room a little before midnight, and took a cold shower in my room's very... grotty bathroom. I got to look forward to a slow morning the next day, as my boat was sending someone to pick me up at 10:00 AM.
And that, boys and girls, was my first day in Egypt. A lot of confusion, a scam or two, but also plenty of really nice people and an evening spent on the banks of the Nile River. I was so happy to have arrived and to have conquered my first major hurdles with only a couple of good stories to tell.
I was also really glad I'd be checking out of El Selam, because Yikes.
I went to Egypt, and afterwards I arrived in grateful exhaustion at Dulles' Custom's Counter none the worse for wear. I had had a marvelous adventure, and was riding The Biggest High Ever from actually getting to see the freaking Pyramids a few days before. But as a friend said when discussing her recent solo trip to Jordan: (paraphrasing, sorry Mallory) "I had a great time. But I realized while I was there that I was vulnerable." She said (I think I remember her saying) that she was so glad she went, but that she probably wouldn't put herself in that same situation again.
That is exactly how I feel about my trip to Egypt.
On that note, let's finally try and begin.
I don't think I've ever felt so unsure and unprepared as I did getting on the plane from Istanbul to Cairo. The travel thrill was up and running at full speed, because let's face it, it is fucking awesome to look up at the Arrivals Board and see your flight number next to the word "Cairo". But I really didn't know what I'd be facing, and I was worried. Plain and simple.
The short flight was fine, and before I knew it, I was on Egyptian soil. Or at least, tarmac. I walked into the Domestic Terminal feeling very much like Alice... but wow. I'm not sure what I expected, but this sparkling clean and completely fucking empty airport is not what I had in mind at all. I actually thought for a minute that there might have been some sort of attack or crisis that had happened while I was in the air. Where on earth was everybody?
I bumbled around and eventually got my visa sticker and passport stamp. Gigantic Hooray! It was weird and confusing only because it was so damn easy. No lines at either counter, and I was legit in a very small room all by myself with two friendly Customs guys, getting that all-important stamp. They joked with me about where my husband was, and one guy tried on my sun hat which he though was hilarious. And then I was through, stamped and stickered and legit in Egypt. Holy hell.
I found my gate for the Aswan flight in the utterly deserted airport, and then got myself a very much-needed beer at the cafe next door. So far, so good. I still had butterflies the size of velociraptors, but I was over the first big hurdle and feeling optimistic.
I went down the stairs to my gate... to see that I was the only woman there and also the only white person. Everyone else there was an Egyptian man in their traditional dress, which looks a lot like a long pajama shirt but I won't call them pajamas because that is probably insensitive. I sat discreetly away and buried my nose in my book, which is my standard defense against unwanted attention in a public place. The waiting area continued to fill up, and soon there were a handful of other women including a handful of tourists. Yay, solidarity!
We flew to Aswan. And there, in Aswan's tiny dilapidated airport, I had my first hiccup. Sisyphus didn't come out on the baggage carousel with all the other bags, and as I stood there wondering how to handle this latest development, a couple airport guys started asking me questions and I began to understand that, because I had flown internationally, even though I'd gone through customs in Cairo, my bag was in a completely separate room, which they eagerly escorted me to.
And here it was that I had my first brush with the one thing that I ended up just completely hating about Egypt. Baksheesh. Baksheesh is the Arabic word for tip, and it's one I really got to loathe during my nine days in the country. This one porter was so aggressive about carrying my bag it was frightening. I grabbed it off the floor and literally had to keep pushing his hands away as I got it strapped around me. I made it clear I didn't need or want his help, but the guy stuck to me like a barnacle as I went out and found my car waiting for me. (Oh blessed lord thank you!), and then he tried to pull the backpack off my shoulders while I still had the waist belt buckled. And then, after all that, when I was flustered and stressed and totally at sea, he got right in my face and stuck his hand out for a tip. I tipped him a few coins to get him away from me, except he refused to move and kept saying "too little too little." This fucker actually tried to keep me from opening the car door, and the driver didn't help. I eventually got in and we drove away as he continued to shout after us. Fucking lovely, dude.
Ugh. So as I'm shaking and trying to take stock of all my stuff and make sure the guy didn't rob me while I was all distracted, my driver is chatting me up and trying to convince me to go with him to this bazaar instead of taking me straight to my hotel. I politely declined, and thank heaven he did indeed take me to the door of El Salam Hotel.
Aswan and its environs, in the southern Egyptian desert, is absolutely stunningly beautiful. It is also stricken with poverty, and as I drove through the city I probably had one of the biggest "Holy crap what am I doing here??" moments of my entire life. We got to my hotel... and that feeling did not abate one bit. The owner was nice and I felt pretty safe at least, but this was unquestionably one of the strangest and dumpiest places I had ever stayed. It was also largely empty, which didn't help with the whole "Shining in the desert" vibe.
Oh yeah. I hadn't said. Aswan was... hot. Unbelievably hot. Like 110 degrees in the shade hot during the middle of the day. At least when I checked in it was getting to be early evening, but there was no AC in any of the common areas and I felt like I was moving through an oven. It's a cliche but that's also exactly how it felt. Like I was being slow-cooked. The next person who says anything about dry heat not being bad is getting a punch to the throat.
El Salam was across the street from the Nile, so that was kind of extremely awesome.
 |
| View from the hotel's lobby |
Before I got dinner, I wanted to secure a couple of beers to drink back at the hotel later. But... you can't buy beer at a market in Egypt. I didn't know this. I stupidly thought it would be like Turkey, where beer is scarce in restaurants but readily available in little shops to be found all over. Wrong. I walked for probably not very long but it was starting to seem like an awfully long time to me. My death stare was getting wobbly from being held so stiffly for so long. Just as I was giving up, I saw a dude outside this little kiosk thing. I asked if he had beer, and he did!! Yaaaay! He charged more than twice per can than what I had paid at the Cairo airport, but I so did not care. I stuck the two cans in my backpack and went to get dinner.
Yeah, it was only after I got back to my hotel that I realized I had paid 70 EGP for two cans of non-alcoholic beer. My record of savvy monetary dealings in Egypt was not looking good thus far.
However. Dinner happened to be amazing, so that was lucky. And, they had beer. Real beer. Wondrous. I had a very tasty plate of "chicken with rice and herbs" and a friendly waiter who managed to both put me at ease and not bother me. The restaurant was outside, on a legit floating pier on the Nile River. I watched the cruise ships and felucas sail past and finally began to really smile. I had made it! I was in Egypt! And tomorrow, I would actually get to be on one of those boats!
I finished up and went back to my hotel, where I discovered the beer fiasco and so decided to try my luck at the expensive-looking hotel across the street, in the hopes that they might have a bar. I was afraid to venture far afield, but it was only something like 9:30 and the idea of spending hours just sort of sitting around in my awful little room or the slightly less-awful but more-awkward lobby was not appealing.
The hotel did indeed have a lovely outdoor bar right on the river. I got a glass of wine and amused myself as the bar's only other patron was a woman in Muslim dress who was enjoying a hookah by herself. I felt like we should fist-bump or something. It was blissfully quiet and I got some good journal writing in, until one of the sailors on a docked feluca began to chat me up and refused to be dissuaded by any of the conventional and increasingly pointed signals that I wanted to be left alone. He told me his name was "Habibi", but as chance would have it, that is one of the few Arabic words I know and it means "sweetheart." I laughed and told him there was no way I was calling him sweetheart.
I got back into my room a little before midnight, and took a cold shower in my room's very... grotty bathroom. I got to look forward to a slow morning the next day, as my boat was sending someone to pick me up at 10:00 AM.
And that, boys and girls, was my first day in Egypt. A lot of confusion, a scam or two, but also plenty of really nice people and an evening spent on the banks of the Nile River. I was so happy to have arrived and to have conquered my first major hurdles with only a couple of good stories to tell.
I was also really glad I'd be checking out of El Selam, because Yikes.
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