Kassel: The life and times....

Hello once again.  Another love letter from Kassel, which I'm starting to believe must be an obscure German word for "grey".  It's been pretty damn grey here this winter so far.

And what's been goin' on?  Not much, I'm afraid.  After finally getting my schedule up to almost "full time" (way more than 40 hours, but whatever) back in December, January has seen fit to grace me with more than my fair share of cancelled classes, three of which have ended permanently.  So we're pretty much back to where we started from.  The sad truth of this is that, as much as I may or may not love Germany, as much as I may or may not want to throw in absolutely everything I have into making things work out here, a job that doesn't let me pay my bills is not going to be a job I have the luxury of keeping.  I've asked my company about the prospects of getting me back up with a schedule that would let me have a monthly budget in the black, and unfortunately they did not have much to tell me.  So there may be some hard choices to come, I am sad to say.  I am still hoping to make it work here, and am working on several possibilities on my own.  We will see.

Have not exactly had a gem of a social life since getting back, either.  My best friend here, Jocelyne, picked up and left Kassel back in early December.  So I lost my drinking buddy and venting tandem exchange partner.  (I vent and she listens, then she vents and I listen.  It was a good system.  Like therapy, but free.)  So I've been trying to fill my time in other productive ways.  After saying I was going to do it for months, I did finally join a gym here, which of course is one more expense that I don't need right now, but a monthly gym membership is a better use of 50 euros than one of my typical debaucherous nights out, and I'm not doing very much of that second thing these days anyway.

Um.  I also bought a basil plant and named him Lion-O.  Yep, we're really scraping the bottom of the barrel for interesting updates these days.

Just tonight however, I did book a train and a hostel for next weekend in Heidelberg.  It's really not fiscally responsible for me to be taking a trip just now, never mind the fact that I have no idea how all the prep and paperwork and stuff I usually do over the weekend is going to get done.  But I simply have to start making myself enjoy Germany, and the thing I love most of all (except perhaps a big, dry mimosa) is travel.  Heidelberg sounds beautiful; I definitely did not want just another dreary urban jungle.  It also seems that while it has plenty to see and do, a weekend should do it justice for an initial visit if I plan it right.  Really looking forward to setting out on an adventure again.  It has been way too long.

I realized the other day that if this was my Istanbul contract, my time here would be pretty much over.  That is kind of horrifying to me, because so far I haven't done jack shit here in Kassel.  I mean, I didn't do as much in Turkey as I probably should have or could have, but I did knock out two incredible long weekends to world-class ancient sites and saw a good chunk of Istanbul itself over the course of four months.  Compared to my current state of affairs, I was an intrepid trailblazing globetrotter back in Turkey.  ....Hence, the impulsive Heidelberg purchase, and to hell with things like bank accounts and lesson planning! :)

It's not much, but the past two Saturdays I have managed to at least do a little sightseeing.  A couple weeks ago we actually had a mostly-sunny day, so I did something I've been wanting to do since I moved here, and walked around taking pictures of the pretty parts of Kassel.

Kassel has its own little Galata Tower.

As you can see, Kassel does not lack for churches.  And my own apartment building aside, I actually live in quite a pretty neighborhood, with lots of old buildings that a colleague tells me managed to escape the WWII bombings.  I discovered a couple of neat spots, including an Egyptian restaurant I'm looking forward to checking out.  I wonder if they'll have that delish spaghetti/rice/lentils thing.

Last Saturday, I did something else I've been meaning to, and visited the Schloss Wilhelmshöhe.  At one time, it was a palace.  Now, it's an art gallery.

From a trip to the Bergpark back in September

I forgot my camera on this visit, but that's okay as they don't allow photos inside and you probably have a pretty good idea what an art gallery looks like already.  Lots of German and Dutch Masters, and a lovely Rembrandt collection.  On the ground floor, there's a small collection of artifacts from Greece and Rome, and even two glass cases of pieces from Ancient Egypt.  Downstairs, there's a lovely cafe.  I sat and had one of the best salads I've been able to find in Europe so far.  A good day.

And... that's kind of... it.

Oh yeah, and no fun sightseeing outings for me tomorrow.  Instead, I'm attending an afternoon teachers' meeting!  Hooray!  (Losing my one free day was also an impetus for next weekend's trip.)

This time next week I will be safely ensconced in my Heidelberg hostel, hopefully getting ready for an early night so I can get up and make the most of Saturday.  Something to look forward to.

Hope everyone is healthy and happy.  Goodnight folks.

Cairo: Egyptian Museum and a Marriage Proposal

Look!  It's finally the last Egypt post!!!


Once again in Egypt, I awake early.  It's my last full day here, which fills me both with sadness and a little bit of relief.  I do my minimal morning ablutions (horizontal to out-the-door in 20 minutes or less, what can I say? It's a gift), and go out to wait for my guide and driver, who, for the first time, are not there waiting for me.

Time passes.  Half an hour.  I inquire politely at the hotel desk, and a call is made.  A few minutes later, a call back.  It's for me.

"My Queen!  I am coming for you!"

Oh.  Well, crap.

Also, cleverly played, my friend.  Because if you hadn't outright lied to me about not being my guide today, there would be no fucking chance you'd be holding me up right now.

An hour later, Ahamed boils in with his Indiana Jones hat, 90 minutes late, full of compliments and effusive apologies.  We're off to the Egyptian Museum.

I was extremely nice to Ahamed concerning his lateness, but mentioned -- at least twice, very clearly -- that I would be wanting to see literally everything that was on display at the Egyptian Museum, which would take probably at least four hours if not longer.  I said I hoped this late start would not impact the rest of our Cairo tour.  He assured me it would not.  Effusively.  My Queen would have all the time she needed.

The crowds in front of the museum were, honestly, a little demoralizing.  Fortunately, the museum is so huge that there are plenty of places for people to spread out, and it wasn't bad inside, albeit unairconditioned.  Once again, I'm giddily bouncing.  The chance to ogle the splendors of King Tut's tomb, and say Hello to none other than Rameses II himself, seemed to me to be a fitting way to close out my crazy Egypt adventure.

Oh, they don't allow photos inside the museum.  And this time, they really really don't.  Here's the one shot I managed to get:

Horus and Set blessing a pharaoh

I've been using this word at least six times in each Egypt post it seems, but the museum was just incredible.  There is so much stuff there.  One of my favorites was the Amarna room, which house artifacts from the reign of Akhenaten and Nefertiti.  I was loving every second of inching my way past every display case and info card, but Ahamed was going out of his mind with boredom.

Like yesterday, he began poking at the artifacts.  I'm sorry -- touching modern art is one thing.  It makes you a douchy idiot, but probably no harm will be done.  Smearing your fingers all over a priceless 3,000 year-old artifact?  Oh hell no.

Me:  Adamed, what are you doing?  Don't touch that!  (Once again, I have become a Tourist with a Toddler.)
Him:  Oh, my Queen, it is okay.  (He keeps touching shit wearing this little smirk.)
Me:  Ahamed, how many people visit the Egyptian museum in a year?
Him:  *some big number*
Me:  Well, if every single one of those people touched that scarab, it would be a shapeless lump.  The oils and bacteria on your hands aren't good for it either.  Frankly, you should kind of know that.  Please don't touch the priceless artifacts, okay?

This next fantastic convo happened while looking at a small statuette similar, but not identical to, the one pictured above.

Me:  *something something* Thoth.
Him:  No, my Queen.  It is Horus, as I have told you.
Me:  (Teeth clenched through a smile)  Thoth is the one with the ibis head, right?
Him:  (Actually looks at the damn thing)  Oh, my Queen!  You are right!

It's a really good thing that all I wanted out of my guide was a male presence.

So we're ever-so-slowly winding our way through the museum.  I'm having the time of my life, but Ahamed is close to wigging out and he starts disappearing on me for minutes at a time.  At one point, he gets a phone call and I forget the specifics, but somehow it comes out that -- in fact -- our time at the Egyptian Museum needs to be drawing to an end so we can see all of the downtown Cairo sites before they close at 4:30.

I have to pick my jaw up off the floor, Looney Tunes-style.  I cannot even tell you how pissed this makes me.  Of all the shenanigans I'd had to put up with for the past two days, getting this sprung on me when I had been promised that it wouldn't happen made me want to do violence.  (Also, I'm pretty positive he made this up to get me through the museum faster.)

I look at him.  And with a soft, gentle smile to soften the words, I say mildly: "Well, I'm not rushing through this, so we will have to figure out the rest of the tour when it happens.  I'm not happy about this, Ahamed.  I mean, I told you how important the museum is for me.  And you've been telling me all morning that it was going to be fine."

I swear on every holy statue in the Egyptian Museum that this is, over the course of two very frustrating days, the only admonishment I would ever give my guide.

I thought yesterday's sulk in Alexandria was bad?  Oh ho.  Ahamed is shattered.  Utterly shattered.  He sits on a bench with his hat in his hands and his eyes on the floor.  I've effectively lost my male protector, which, let's face it, is pretty much the only thing I'm paying him for.  I continue my circuit of the museum alone.  Every so often I circle back to find him where I'd left him, and use all of my atrophied child-wrangling skills to get him on his feet again.

All of this drama happens before we even get to the two best parts of the Egyptian Museum, which are the mummies, and the King Tut exhibit.  I really didn't want these experiences ruined, so did my best to practice my breathing and positive-thought-projecting.

The two Mummy Rooms are an unforgettable experience.  First up is the room that holds wives and high-ranking officials.  The mummy once suspected to be Nefertiti is here.  (It's now believed that this woman is Queen Tiye, Akhenaten's mother.)  The second room is the one that has all the pharaohs.  There's really nothing that brings Egypt home than making your way through what is essentially a glass graveyard, looking at the faces of these real people you've read about, seen documentaries about, and whose tombs and temples you might have just visited.

By an immense stroke of good fortune, the guard in this room has a distinctly sleepy look about him, so I decide to risk it, and snap this shot off the hip:

Rameses II

Now, Ahamed and I finally wind our way over to the King Tut Room.  Let me tell you, the guards (plural) are definitely not sleepy here, so no photos unfortunately.  But this room is simply wonderful.  I actually manage to (unintentionally) pull Ahamed out of his sulk as he laughs at how bouncy and dewy-eyed I am in here.

Once, I took a road trip to Philadelphia purely to see one of Tutankhamen's tiny canopic jars.  So you can maybe imagine how special this is for me.

After that, there are just a few more rooms to see.  Ahamed perks up as it begins to be clear that his museum ordeal is soon to be over.

And before long, we emerge once again against the dazzling Egyptian summer sky, and head off to the Salah al-Din Citadel.  The Citadel is truly enormous, and my guidebook assures me that it is full of at least a dozen sites worthy of attention, including several mosques, museums, and other historic goodness.  But Ahamed swears to me faithfully that we simply cannot see most of them, that they are not interesting, and most are closed anyway for various reasons.  I throw up my hands, literally.  There is only so much fighting and protesting I can do.  He's better at this than me.  At least I managed to win at the museum.  You have to pick your battles, after all.  Especially when in Egypt.

We do visit the Mosque of Muhammad Ali inside the Citadel.

To be allowed to enter the mosque, I have to wear this, which frankly makes the blue skirt back at the Blue Mosque seem completely reasonable.

Ahamed tells me that this mosque was in fact modeled after the Blue Mosque, but that this one is far more beautiful.  I'm afraid I have to disagree.  It was quite lovely inside the Muhammed Ali Mosque, but the Blue Mosque is a thing unto itself.

And that turns out to be it, more or less, for the Citadel.  I'm pretty disappointed, but know there's not much I can do at this point.  For the rest of our Cairo tour, Ahamed takes me downtown and we visit a couple Catholic and Coptic churches.

At this last church, I discretely excuse myself and walk up to sit in the front pew.  It so happens that at this very moment when I am wrangling Ahamed in the wilds of Cairo, my sister is planning to give birth to her first child by cesarean section.  I'm not religious but I was raised Catholic, and heck, at a time like this it doesn't hurt to ask for a little grace.

I'm sitting quietly, with my head bowed and eyes closed.  I haven't been sitting for more than a minute when Ahamed chooses this moment to poke me in the arm and ask what I am doing.  Um, I was trying to pray, you doucher.

My "tour of downtown Cairo" is over.  I'm wrestling between being honest with Ahamed or just letting things end peacefully, when I have a brainstorm.  To this point, the only thing I have bought in Egypt has been my "authentic Nubian necklace" back in Aswan when I was a captive audience on a circling feluca.  Not one friend or family member has a present, and this is a problem.  But the other problem of my very much not wanting to get harassed or taken advantage of is very much still present as well.

So, I smile.  And ask Ahamed the nicest way possible if he wouldn't mind keeping me company for a little while as I visit some shops and kiosks we passed on the way to the churches.

"My Queen!  Of course I will stay with you!"

And that's how I end up taking Ahamed shopping with me for an hour.  To be fair, he's way more patient with this than he's been with any other thing we have done thus far.  He even translates a little, and once or twice offered advice on whether or not I was being presented with a decent deal.  I'm happy, because I feel this kind of makes up for him being 90 minutes late and all, and he's happy because he's pretty sure this means I'm not mad at him anymore.

We finish up and walk back to the car, and I prepare to part on good terms.  A frank honesty moment, I decide, will have utterly no positive effect whatsoever, and is simply not worth it.  Also, I'm not sure where to even start.  I start to make my goodbye noises, at which point Ahamed abruptly invites me to have dinner with him, at a "real authentic Egyptian cafe.  I think you will love it, my Queen."

My thought process goes something like this over the next two or three seconds.  'You know, why not?  He might take me someplace nice, if yesterday's lunch is anything to go by.  And I was just planning to sit at the hotel again and order in since I don't want to go out by myself, especially with the social unrest and all.'  I admit my judgement was extremely poor here, possibly colored by nostalgic fantasies of Georgia, where such a request would soon be followed by six hours of wine, vodka, and more food (mostly yummy) than you could possibly imagine.  And... also probably song and dance after about the first hour, enthusiastically if not exactly expertly performed.

".... Sure," I say.  "Why the heck not?"

Egypt is not Georgia.

Ahamed and my driver take me back to my hotel, where I drop off my backpack.  When I come back to the lobby, the driver nowhere to be found.  Apparently, we are on foot from here on out.  This actually comforts me, as any place within walking distance will be infinitely easier to make an escape from than somewhere halfway across the city.  Should I need to.

"My Queen, we will go now!"

Ahamed and I set off into the sunset in search of his "authentic restaurant".  I begin to have misgivings when he starts to ask people directions.  Has he ever even been to this "authentic restaurant which I will love"?  But then we arrive.

It's the shabbiest, dive-iest, hole-in-the-wall I can imagine.  It's easily 110 degrees inside, and flies swarm.  The dilapidated formica tables are dotted with spilled food in various shades of black.  I am, of course, the only woman, and not exactly instantly welcomed.  There is, natch, no beer.  This is... simply the worst restaurant I have ever been to, and I spent seven months in Poti hanging out in dive bars semi-attached to brothels.

We sit.  Ahamed goes up to the counter to order for both of us, and in only a few minutes our food arrives.  We both have big bowls of plain spaghetti, burnt spaghetti, rice, and lentils.  On the side are condiment bottles of tomato sauce and hot sauce, which we apply liberally to give some flavor to the otherwise naked dish, and dig in.

It's a moment of resigned dismay when, from my first bite of this Egyptian delicacy, I can tell, Georgia-trained, that it is going to make me sick.  I have roughly 24 hours of travel to look forward to tomorrow.  Nothing to do but grit your teeth and plunge on, my friend.  In the name of International Relations.  I manage to eat about two-thirds of it, which I think counts for polite.  It was a sizable portion.

Near the end of the meal, Ahamed breaks off from our meaningless small talk to give me a long, searching look of intent.  "Mary.  You are a good person."

Whoa.  I'm pretty sure this is the first time he's ever called me by my name and not my royal title.  I look up, bemused, and remember my manners.  "Um, thank you?"  I wonder if my interrupted praying moment has anything to do with this.

"If you would allow, I would like very much.... to speak with your father."

This has to be the first time since the Maltaqva "I have gun" incident that I have been rendered truly momentarily speechless.  Certainly if I'd had to choose, this would not have been the ending I would have predicted for this day of lateness and shenanigans and pouting and an all-around really liberal interpretation of "guiding".  And now -- to receive an offer of marriage, here in this tasteful lover's nest of all places.  Maybe he plans to romantically wind a piece of burnt spaghetti around my finger if I say yes.

I move my lips around experimentally for a few seconds.  What follows should just about net me the Nobel Prize for diplomacy.

"I'm honored by your offer, Ahamed.  But I'm afraid that with my life as it is, now is just not the right time for me to marry."

Ahamed is sad but resigned.  To be fair, he's a lot less upset by this than he was back at the museum when I told him I wasn't happy about the tour being cut short, or even when I attempted to change our Alexandria lunch venue yesterday.  He gives me his contact info, in case I change my mind.  I promise him I will give his request all due consideration, and that I will search for him on Facebook.  I am, of course, lying.  In the name of International Relations.

We walk back to my hotel.  Ahamed starts to get lost and I need to set him straight.  Lawd.



And that, friends and lovers, was the Saga of Mary and Ahamed in Egypt.  Safely ensconced before sundown, I had my hotel order me some emergency beers, and sat back for an evening of most essential skyping.

Because my nephew was being born.

I can't even tell you how amazing it was to close out my Egypt adventure with seeing this little miracle's face right there on my laptop screen.

And hey, it's not in the same league as giving birth, but I succeeded in giving my family a good laugh with tales of my latest Egyptian misadventure.



So.  That was Egypt.  The next morning I packed up and headed out, wary of the simmering protest but thank heaven it waited another 24 hours to erupt.  The airport was something of... an experience, and I got my very last Baksheesh Shakedown as a uniformed airport guard took hold of my arm in the throng and said "You pay!", and then gestured up to the front of the line, that was really not so much a line but a Lovecraftian teeming mass.  Giving it up once more for Egypt, I did indeed pay him, and he took a firmer grip on my arm and propelled me bodily to the front of the security checkpoint, where bags and boxes were being thrown on the belt in magnificent stacks and piles of frenetic confusion.  My protector evaporated; I'd made it through.  Just one more Egypt story for the books.

Final impressions?  I've never, ever been so happy to be anywhere.  There's not going to be a trip that comes close to this, not ever again.  China, a Mesoamerican backpacking tour... these things will be amazing, but they will not even in the same league as Egypt.  The bar has been set.  I had wanted to go to Egypt for as long as I could remember, and I'd done it.  I'd managed to see and do almost everything I possibly could have wanted to, and I saw and did things I didn't think I could.  This trip was a surprise from start to finish, and all in all, I think it went pretty damn well.

I'll continue to dream about seeing the pyramids again, but I also know that chances are very good that this was -- literally -- probably going to be my one and only chance.  So I made the most of it, every moment that I could.

I was also, however, pretty damn happy to be going home.  Bacon, Mexican food, and a nephew awaited.  And life never stops being interesting.



P.S.  I did have most critical diarrhea and stomach upset for my flight back however, which included a 14-hour opus from Dubai.  Ahamed's parting love-gift, I suppose.

Alexandria: wherein "My Queen" visits the major sites

I debated whether or not to go to Alexandria pretty much right up until I got in the car.  The city was apparently 2 hours away from Cairo, which adds up to a full half-day spent in the car.  Also, given the distance and what not, this was a pretty expensive tour.  And they were going to make me get up all early in the morning again. :)

But, I paid, and I went.  And I really don't mean for this to sound bitchy, but I kind of wish I hadn't.

My guide and driver met me in my hotel's lobby at some insane hour.  5:30 AM I think?  Anyway, it was bloody early.  And so began what was not, in truth, the two-hour ride I had been told to expect.  With traffic in both Cairo and Alexandria, and a lovely queue to buy gas halfway, it was definitely approaching closer to four.

My guide's name was Ahamed (sp?), and he sported an Indiana Jones hat and not much in the way of practical, in depth knowledge of his subject, as far as I could see.  Ismail from the Tower Prestige this was not.  He had this awesome habit of prefacing sentences with "As I have told you" when he had done absolutely nothing of the kind.

And he kept calling me "My Queen".

Eventually we arrived in Alexandria and pulled up to our first stop, the Catacombs of Kom el Shoqafa.

As always, it seemed these days, photos were forbidden inside but I got a few anyway.  Ahamed was convinced that this was the place that Cleopatra is buried; in fact there is a particularly beautiful tomb, with bas reliefs showing a woman bearing symbols and styles of both Egypt and Rome.  But for some reason, the Egyptians can't or won't open this tomb, so it appears we'll never know.  Anyway, there were lots of guards at this spot, so no photos.  Sorry.

The catacombs were extremely cool and creepy.  This being Egypt, Ahamed let me venture into some roped-off areas, and even go down to the next level that had been closed for flooding.  In the limited light provided my illegal sojourn, I saw lots of dead cockroaches and a few live ones.  Headed back up.

The catacombs were extremely creepy and awesome, and I very much enjoyed my guide-given liberty to climb around a little.  But then it was back into the car and across town to Pompey's Pillar.  And I began to see that these catacombs were maybe going to be the highlight of the day.

Seriously, it is only a testament to the incredible awesomeness that had suffused almost every hour of my trip so far that the sites Alexandria had too offer seemed lackluster by comparison.  But let's be real, the day after climbing into the heart of Khafre's pyramid, one lone Roman pillar is not going to make you squee with uncontainable joy.  It's just a perspective thing I suppose.  Jaded by ancient splendor after four days, who would have thought? :)

It's a cool site, even if there's not much left.  One of the best things were the underground tunnels.

With the lighting, this reminded me of a Predator spaceship

It was also here that Ahamed and I would get our signature photo taken, at his request.  This was the end result of several Egyptian teenage girls in traditional dress asking if they could take their photo with me.  "Look, here I am with this silly, giant, half-dressed, bright pink person!"  You're welcome, Egyptian Facebook.

Then it was time for more Roman ruins, and Ahamed and I headed back to mobile air-conditioning on our way to check out one of several Roman amphitheaters.

And then, it was time for lunch.  Fresh from yesterday's extreme and expensive awkwardness, I very nicely told Ahamed I wanted to go somewhere very quick and casual for lunch.  "A chicken schwarma place would be fine," I said.

Well, wouldn't you know, but apparently there just wasn't one single place in the entire city of Alexandria that would fit that description.

I was trying, as I had been trying my entire time in Egypt, to not be bothered by small stuff.  But this fired me up something fierce.  We are in what is probably Egypt's second-greatest city, and you're telling me you physically cannot take me to once single goddam cafe where they have goddam chicken schwarma on a stick so I don't have to throw back another 150 EGP for a fucking awkward lunch?

I'm sorry, but this was my tour.  My private tour.  I was paying no small amount for this, and I really did not think it was too much to ask that my guide honor a very simple preference request for lunch.  Apparently, it was.

Ahamed sulked through the entirety of our next stop, which was the Citadel of Qaitbey, built on the ruins of the Alexandria Lighthouse.  I did not get much "guiding" here, that's for sure.

I was basically ignoring him and romping around, but it cannot be denied that my time at Qaitbey was my first experience at a major historical site while dragging along a small child.  I now have appreciatively more respect for parents with recalcitrant toddlers.

Ahamed did not let his sulk get in the way of asking for our second picture together.

After the Citadel, we walked down to the end of a nearby pier.

It was here that Ahamed took my hands, looked sorrowfully into my eyes, and said: "My Queen, I wish so much to honor your request.  But it is just not possible."

Of course.

At which point, I sighed, smiled, and said: "That's okay, Ahamed.  You take us wherever you like.  I'm sure it will be great."  There is only so much one woman can do against the onslaught of Egyptian shenanigans.

And so it was that my hapless guide and I arrived at a seaside fish place which was inevitably where we were fated to be all along.  Once again, it had an expensive fixed menu but at least, praise the sweet Lord, had beer.  And Ahamed sat with me while our driver did not, which was a mixed blessing because it meant I didn't have to eat lunch alone again, but it did mean I had to have lunch with Ahamed.

The mezes, or the equivalent of what they call them in Arabic, were quite good, and the fish wasn't bad either, although I kind of did get my fill of heads and tails while in Georgia.  A chicken schwarma would have been really ideal here.  I scandalized the waiter by ordering a beer, and then scandalized him further, plus Ahamed and everyone else in the entire restaurant, when I ordered a second.  It was... necessary.  I was wondering if Ahamed sitting with me meant I might be paying for his lunch as well, but thankfully when the bill came, this was not the case.  Small favors.

Finally, lunch was over and we were off again, this time to the Library of Alexandria.  Of course, the original Library has been completely destroyed, but they've built a new one, very modern.  (I had to check my backpack in a separate kiosk, this will be relevant later.)  Inside... it's a library.  I was feeling a little bit of... "Why did we come here?", but there happened to be an interesting modern art exhibit which we walked through.  Ahamed kept poking at the art to try and impress me.  Best guide ever.

After the gallery, there was a Rare Books and Manuscripts Room which you could pay extra to see.  Not wanting this site to be a total loss, I paid, and was very glad I did.

The manuscripts room was excellent, and Ahamed actually translated some texts for me, this making it the first time he had made himself useful as anything other than a protective male escort in Egypt.  (Which really was most of what I wanted when I booked the tours anyway, so no giant harm done I suppose.)

On the way back to the car, Ahamed forgot about my backpack and I had to remind him.  Once again, best guide ever.  Top notch.

And that was it for Alexandria.  I really enjoyed it, and was really sorry I happened to see it with Ahamed.  We had a log ride back with traffic once again in both cities, and a gas queue.  (The gas situation in Cairo was kind of critical while I was there; frankly I felt really lucky to have gotten to drive to Alexandria at all.)  On the drive home, Ahamed reviewed my itinerary and start times for tomorrow (Egyptian Museum and downtown Cairo), and mentioned specifically that he would not be my guide on the following day.  I thought: "Good", because I had been planning to say something to my hotel, but if the situation was taken care of, I saw no reason to make a fuss.

Big mistake.  Huge.

Guide shenanigans and hilarity continues in the next post!  Stay classy, internet.

Cairo: Giza and Saqqara, and wrangling Mickey Mouse

Okay folks, it's time.  Time for one of the most important blog pieces I have ever written.  We're going to talk about Cairo, and the day I visited the pyramids.

No lie, there are some tears welling up here.  Unashamed.

Why has it taken me so furiously long to write about visiting the pyramids?  I don't know.  Probably because I've simply feared that I will never be able to do the experience justice.  As I've said in past posts, the whole of Egypt was so completely thrilling, so overwhelming, at times frustrating and confusing, but overall so simply amazing that it's difficult to convey all of that chaos into the typed word.  What's even the point after so long?  Well, that should be freaking obvious.  And how can I even remember details from over six months ago?  Well, I have my journal, and hundreds of photographs, and the fact that I have been drafting and re-drafting this post in my head even before I even laid eyes on the blessed things.  No, rest assured.  My memory of this day is crystal clear.

But before all that, there was a slight hiccup in my meticulously-laid travel plans.  I flew from Luxor to Cairo, and there as promised was a dude with a sign waiting to drive me to the hostel.  It turned out his black sedan had no air conditioning, but I grimly and cheerfully bucked up for the hour-long drive through mid-afternoon Cairo traffic.  As we finally neared our destination, I gazed out my open window into what was decidedly a very active and local neighborhood.  We finally drew to a halt in front of a completely nondescript building, and entered, past the three guys in a hallway cubbyhole sitting on a mattress on the floor and watching an antique TV.  And rode up the equally antique elevator, which incidentally had no door.  The hostel itself was the very definition of basic, and instead of the single room I had booked, they put me in an empty quad.  The window overlooked a noisy main street, and the first time I turned on the light in the bathroom, a cockroach ran out of the shower to hide under the toilet.  Um.

I really wish to extend my apologies to these very nice hostel folks for my inability to honor my reservation at this particular establishment.  But the neighborhood combined with the sketchy TV guys, the weird room and the cockroach all combined to just a little more gritty hardcore travel experience than I wanted right just then.  They were extremely kind and understanding, and even let me use their wireless to book a new place.  Thanks again guys.

Only now I was riding by my very own self in a Cairo taxi, armed only with an address written in Arabic.  Naturally the guy couldn't find the place, and I ended up dragging my filthy and exhausted, backpacked self into a five-star hotel to ask for directions.  (Remember this is still the same day I'd gotten up at 5:00 AM for Valley of the Kings!)  They set me straight, and Glory Be, eventually I was finally settled in my very own proper single room with AC and a modern, cockroach-free bathroom.  Woohoo!  The new hotel was in a much quieter neighborhood, on the Nile and in view of Cairo Tower.  This was much better.

Of course I'd given up the tours I'd originally booked when I decided to check out of the old place, but my new hotel was able to book me exactly the same for... only a little more.  Oh well.  I was going to see the pyramids the next morning!!!  I changed out of my dirty and Cairo-inappropriate tank top and capri shorts, and set out to find a hotel-recommended place for dinner.  Naturally, I got lost and street-harassed.  But just as I was thinking of giving up, lo and behold I found it.  Super cute, with a nice mix of tourists and locals.  They gave me a nice table with my back to the wall, and I ordered a simple dinner of hummus, chicken schwarma, and Egyptian beer.  It was a splurge but the portions were enormous, and they actually gave me a to-go box, which would make tomorrow's dinner virtually free.  Good times.  I gratefully made my way back to my hotel and had a quiet night in anticipation of another early morning.

6:00 AM.  Pyramid Day.  My guide and driver met me in my hotel's lobby, and we piled off together.  I was so excited I was literally bouncing, and could barely pay attention to what my guide was saying about the site, most of which I think I already knew.  But then the inevitable Egyptian Shakedown started, and he began, first subtly then insistently, to suggest that we go visit his friend to provides Giza camel rides to tourists.  I told him I did not want a camel ride.  He told me it would change my life and also possibly cure cancer.  And eventually we pull up in front of Rick's Camels R Us, or whatever the place was called, so I could get my camel sales pitch.

Well, fuck a duck.  When you're in Rome Cairo.  I bought a freaking camel ride.  Not only did I buy a camel ride, I paid for the Big Camel Ride, which they assured me would take several hours and would investigate all the hidden nooks of Giza.  That last bit was pretty tempting, but mostly I booked the Big Camel Ride because of this:

Rather than herding you through the gamut of fellow tourists, aggressive schlock sellers, and panhandlers that surround Giza's main entrance, the Big Camel Ride takes you in through the back way, across the desert.  I'm not going to lie, what happened next was the single best moment of my entire life.

There they were.  Rising out of the desert just like every movie image, every dream I'd ever had.  And it was just me, my camel dragger, and my tour guide on a white horse.  Strictly, simply, incredible.  The best thing ever.

Before I go any further, a word about camels.  I am by no means an accomplished rider, but riding a camel is nothing like riding a horse.  For one thing, a camel hump is something like eight feet off the ground.  That means there are a lot of camel legs that need to sort themselves out as the camel goes from sitting to standing.  The first time my camel, whose name was apparently Mickey Mouse, lurched up, I was so taken off guard that I very nearly pitched forward right over Mickey Mouse's head.  My tour guide and camel tour guide both had to grab me.  It made for an adventurous couple of seconds every time Mickey got himself either up or down.

Totally not awkward.

After I finally got down from the camel, my camel tour guide immediately began motoring me though a series of tourist poses that must certainly be mandatory rote learning at Camel Tour Guide School.  Honestly I could have done without them but at this point I was hardly in the mood to complain.

White belly signalling to the aliens up in space

Then, our small caravan of camel, camel dragger (sweet young kid with fake Adidas sandals and bleeding gums), and camel tour guide made our lurching way to the Pyramid of Khafre, which is the middle pyramid with the marble cap.

In true Egypt fashion, my guides tried to counsel me against going inside any of the pyramids.  Um, were they joking???  I insisted on going inside Khafre's pyramid, which was about half the cost of going inside the Great Pyramid, or Pyramid of Khufu.  In hindsight, I really wish I'd ground my heels and insisted that we go to both of them, but oh well.

The entrance down into the pyramid's burial chamber is tiny.  Tiny, and really steep.  You basically have to bend almost double, and inch your way down bracing yourself on wooden beams that are not quite, but almost a ladder.  Having just come from the Valley of the Kings the day before, I was struck by the fact that the walls and chambers here were pretty much completely devoid of writing or ornamentation.  I thought that would change when I reached the actual burial chamber, but no.

Oh, and I've now been inside Khafre's burial chamber.  I've taken a short rest on part of his sarcophagus.

Like the Valley of the Kings, they don't allow cameras inside the pyramids.  I was actually made to give mine to my camel guide.  They didn't take my iPhone, however, and natch when I got to the burial chamber there was a guy stationed there who would take your phone photo for a few EGP.  I paid of course, but they all came out really poorly.  Enormous sad face, but again, oh well.

After about 10 or 15 minutes, I'd seen what there was to see and climbed my steep claustrophobic way out again.  Simply amazing.  Incredible.  Humbling.  Triumphant.  Joyous.  I can't even come up with enough adjectives for this entire morning.  Only that it was, and will remain... the best day of my life.

Topside, my camel guide instructed me to climb up on Khafre's pyramid despite frequent and blatant signs instructing that we not do this.  Well, when in Cairo...

He let me take some more photos, and then it was back up on Mickey!

Great Pyramid of Khufu

Great Pyramid, with some jerk in the way

Mickey and I walked a little ways toward the Sphinx, and then I was cheerfully told "Camel finished!"  Wait, what?  We never even got over to Menkaure's pyramid, let alone the queens' pyramids.  It couldn't have been much over an hour.  Camel finished?  Not exactly what I had been so sincerely promised when I forked over my considerable fee.  Well, once again -- Oh well.  Getting to approach the pyramids from the desert like that, and getting to sit for a minute or two with just me and them and the desert wind, that made it worth it a dozen times over.

On foot now, I went to meet my original guide who was going to take me to the Sphinx.  Here's a surprise -- coming at the Sphinx from the back, I completely missed it at first.  After an hour with the hugeness of the pyramids, my eyes just kind of skipped right over it as part of the desert.  However, I will say that from the front it is slightly more breathtaking.

And that, my dear ones, was the Giza plateau.  Wonderful, amazing, whirlwind morning.  I wish I'd had more time.  I wish I'd had all damn day to wander around these wonders, tracing my fingertips over ancient stones and imagining.  But this is the time I had, and I made the most of every picosecond.

Believe it or not, this day was about to get even more awesome.  Reunited with my original guide, we got back in the car and they took me to lunch at the "authentic" place that was such a damn tourist trap that I was kind of pissed.  Expensive, and built for large groups, my guide and driver left me alone at this huge table where waiters proceeded to bring a multi-course meal that was easily enough for four people.  I hardly want to tarnish this day by nitpicking, but this lunch was seriously awkward.  Yet again, I just felt completely taken advantage of.  At least it was tasty.

This was not even all of the food.  Delish, but could feed a family.

But then I put Awkward Lunch out of my mind, because we were off to something that just might be equally awesome to the Pyramids of Giza.  The Step Pyramid at Saqqara., also known as the Pyramid of Djoser.

This pyramid is amazing for so many reasons.  It was the brainchild of architect Imhotep, whose has garnered almost pop-culture celebutante status thanks to a certain trilogy of movies.  The real Imhotep is even cooler than fiction, and to this day there are scores of unexplored tunnels below this pyramid that some believe lead the way to Imhotep's hidden treasure.  Treasure-hunting aside, the Step Pyramid ushered in the dynasty of great pyramid-building at Giza, and basically changed not only the whole of ancient Egyptian culture in a single stroke, but also laid the first groundwork for modern architecture.

After all of this, pretty much anything else was going to seem slightly lackluster.  We visited Memphis, which was the Ancient Egyptian capital and would have been totally incredible, except absolutely nothing of Memphis remains.  Never one to be deterred by facts or other obstacles, Egyptians have simply relocated several artifacts from various other places to this site, called it Memphis, and set up a ticket booth.  I gotta hand it to you, guys.

Anyway, there was a colossus of Ramses II here, and you know I've got a sweet spot for that guy.

After that, my tour was over, just in time for the truly gloves-off heat of midafternoon.  They drove me back to the hotel, where I remained.  I had a shower, ate my leftovers, and asked the front desk if they could order me some beer.  Tomorrow was going to be a yet ever earlier start.  I was taking a little mini road trip to Alexandria.

There's not much more about this day that I can say.  People hear hyperboles all the time, like "best thing ever!" or "it changed my life!".  It makes those phrases and sentences not have the same meaning they should when actually, they turn out to be true.  This day was the best thing ever.  Heat, awkward lunch, hemorrhaging baksheesh, none of that mattered.  I will never, ever forget this day I had with the Pyramids at Giza and at Saqqara.  It changed my life.