To Cairo

On the flight out of Delhi to Bahrain, I sat next to a young couple with a small child that needed milk, food, and sleep. During the sleep time, the father told me that he worked as an engineer in Bahrain and that the three of them had gone home to India to see family and friends on their holiday ever two years. Since they spoke English as fluently as I, we talked on about India, its virtues, its failings, and its future. Since they were expatriates their view point varied from those who live out their lives on the subcontinent. When we landed in Bahrain, they, of course, left the plane as did about half the other passengers. And when we flew on, I had my pick of almost any window seat. I chose one aft of the wing on the portside. Where after leaving the turquoise to ink blue of the Persian Gulf, we began the flight over the Arabian Peninsula. While I craned my neck looking down through the mid day winds carrying sand and dust, what I saw at ground level was more sand and dust. We probably flew at 30,000 feet or more so you couldn’t see any cactus or broom weed down there but I suspect the main reason was that there was no cactus or broom weed. We were half way across the peninsula before I saw an outcrop of rock growing, maybe being covered. If you could find water down there beneath that sand, you’ve found one great place to raise watermelons!
Then more rocks began to appear and in time the Gulf of Aqaba stretched out below but the haze of sand shrouded the view of it intersecting the Red Sea at the tip of the Sinai. Whether the water is really prettier here than other seas and oceans, it’s hard to tell. After looking over the desolation of sand and rock, the relief of seeing anything other than a rusty beige of the desert might create a bias. The Red Sea passed below and we entered Egyptian air space. For the first time, I was looking down on a corner of Africa!
Then in the descent we entered the dust and a moment before the “fasten your seatbelts” sign came on, I should have crossed over to the starboard. I wanted to see the Nile and possibly the pyramids but that wasn’t to be. No need to worry. Both would be in place when we got to the ground.
Before leaving the airport, Mr. Mattie sold me a tour of Upper Egypt. His fast talk let me know that he considered himself expert in the matter of lining up a tour. You need somebody who knows east from west in tourism. I asked for a cursory tour of upriver, nothing too elegant. Mr. Mattie flipped his wrist in a rather dramatic fashion as he showed me a clause in our contract that I was to inform the Ministry of Tourism if what was promised was not delivered. Where had I seen that gesture before? No, Mr. Mattie, I don’t want to find the pharmacy. I want to see the temple at Abu Simbel.
Mr. Mattie’s man drove me through the more expensive sections of Cairo. I think the name of the area was Heliopolis. Cairo’s reputation had preceded my arrival. The city of sixteen million was said to be a pit. At least on this highway into town, it looked like any other city. It did have some stains on the building but what city is free of soot? There were poor areas, I’m sure, but what city does not have them? What pleased me was that everybody drove on the right side of the road and because there was a divider between us and the oncoming lane and there were no Indian drivers in sight, nobody drove toward you in your lane. We were soon on a backstreet, which was quieter, grayer, and more in shadow but while Cairo wouldn’t make my short list as places to retire, I was pleasantly surprised that it was nothing like I’d heard.
The hotel was simple enough. My room was clean and there was a restaurant of sorts on the roof. You say, food and they delivered up what they had made. What was really nice is both the serving help were very pleasant. The lady never stopped smiling. For the shoestring traveler, having friendly hired help is not always the case.
I was picked up by a driver the next morning and then the two of us picked up the official guide, Abdul. He spoke English well and had studied Egyptology at the university. We drove along the river and then crossed over into Giza. The discerning eye would have been able to tell the two cities apart. The undiscerning eye could too. At first they was nothing more than flashing glimpses between buildings but then as we got nearer, the pyramids rose above all else. And that’s one way to tell Giza from Cairo.
In time the automobile traffic was replaced by horses and camels. This section of town was where the old money and the new movie stars kept their Arabians. Grooms led the horses out for exercise and for training. One horse danced by the side of this narrow alley-like street. Imagine my living all these years without a dancing horse.
A small pickup drove by loaded with camels. Three of them in the bed! Ever wonder how to get that much camel wedged in such a narrow space? The camels faced forward so the could watch the on coming traffic. There was a rope rigged across the bed and just above the necks of the camel. I’m a long way from my Camel Care and Feeding Merit Badge but it seems that camels stay in place if there is a retainer across the top of the lower neck. Time’s up! They loaded a camel on either side of the pickup and the third one lay down between the other two.
We stopped by a courtyard and got out. I had no idea what was happening but found that if I wanted to see the pyramids up close, I’d need a camel and a driver to get me there. That wasn’t true but that was the spiel. I took a chair and someone brought tea and then the games began. I would find out that there were charges which were not covered by what I paid Mr. Mattie. The first offer was a deluxe tour for about $165 US.
“Abdul, we gotta go!”
Then they presented the second plan. I didn’t feel like walking the two or three miles out to the pyramids but it seemed that they got me mixed up with a movie star and while that might be easy to do, I have the proof that there is mistaken identity by looking into my wallet. How could I turn Plan Two down? I told them, “Very easily.” Then what was my offer. I told them fifty dollars and while they held back their tears of disappointment, they took it.
Abdul, who wouldn’t be accompanying me, gave me a quick run down on what I was to expect. I was to go into the second pyramid called Khufu. And what was a wonder is they promised me the fifteen Egyptian pounds admission fee!
Then I met my camel. Like me, he was gray and I suspect in camel years he was about my age. He seemed about as enthusiastic as a kid going to see the dentist. He was saddled and ready to walk. Before I go too far, the saddle was long overdue for its 50,000 check-up. Camel saddles have bags on either side of the animal. Not even the newest member of an outing club could fill those bags. The point was moot because wear had reduced the bags to tatters. I did hope for a comfortable seat. There are two saddle horns, one forward, one aft. I think I was supposed to hang onto both of them, not just the one in front of me.
I threw my leg over the saddle and found that the camel is the only individual that I’d met since leaving New York who decided to start a little early. The camel hiked up his rear end and having a death grip on the forward saddle horn, resisting gravity and the inertia of the rump coming up (I think that this was a short wheel base camel,) I manage to stay aboard. Then the front legs unfolded and I had a fairly level saddle on which to sit. The introduction was a close call and in the days to come, I’d nurse some pulled muscles beneath my right shoulder blade. Then with a gentle sway from side to side, we walked off through the alleys and onto the erasable sandy track of a couple of centuries of tourist who came before. We were off to see structures built over four thousand years ago, when men decided to build mountains out of stone.
It was still before noon and the date would fall around April Fools, which is why the temperature was fairly mild. After a mile or so, my guide began chattering about something which needed a yes/no answer. Since I had no idea what he was talking about, I wouldn’t give him an answer. After five or ten minutes of the incomprehensible, another camel driver rode by and explained that we’d be going uphill and that my driver wanted to ride with me. Would that be all right with me? So by now learning that whatever you can accomplish with one saddle horn, you can do better by using two, down we came. My driver climbed on and we were off again. Having walked uphill on sand dunes, it wasn’t hard to be a little charitable.
There are three great pyramids with Cheops being the tallest. According to Abdul, there are only 500 visitors allowed into Cheops per day. You have to have reservations and someone decided that I didn’t want to go. They decided correctly. A generic pyramid would do for the first trip round. Abdul told me also that the burial chamber of Khufu was plain and that there would be a lot of stooping and bending to get to the tomb. Should you see a picture of the three pyramids, Khufu is the one in the middle and is the only one on which a little of the veneer of smoothed limestone still remains close to the peak. Ancients, here, in Rome, and Athens, recycled stone into other buildings. In England farmers were encouraged to take stone from the castles that were no longer needed…except for a rebellion. Lapis means stone from which we get the word “dilapidated.” Recycling the outer layer was one thing. No one wanted to take on the building blocks, any of which would measure larger than a SUV.
The driver dismounted, and we walked on with the driver encouraging the camel to walk faster and the camel paying him no mind. In time as the pyramids rose even higher, the driver coaxed the camel down and I slid off. My legs hurt from gripping the animal with my knees. The driver dug in his pocket, after asking me if I were sure I wanted to go into the pyramid, and gave me the 15 pounds Egyptian and in ten minutes or so, I had circled round Khufu, found the ticket booth, and looked down into the dark passage way leading into the center of the pyramid. I’ve explored caves, worked in a mine about 4000 feet under ground, but looking into that black hole, my guess was that this would prove a different experience.
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