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Published: April 10th 2008
The sounds of Egypt pulsed through the speakers of my taxi as we sped through the streets of Cairo and traversed the bridge spanning the Nile River. Soon the hazy skyline delivered the surreal scenery of two giant pyramids in the backdrop of the palm-speckled metropolis. Buildings of faded-red brick and pallid concrete complemented the insipid colors of the vast desert that surrounded the city. Cairo, known as the “Mother of the World,” is the home of eleven million people and probably somewhere around the same number of scams. As we neared the Pyramids of Giza, my taxi driver whipped into a tourist office just out of view of the entrance gates. I was then informed by him and a tourist agent who quickly made his way to my window that I would need to book a camel or horse ride to accomplish my journey to the pyramids. They claimed that only tourist buses could venture past the gates and that the trek would be around 12km on foot. They said I could take their horse tour for a measly 450 Egyptian pounds ($1=5.5 E-pounds). Being savvy of the relentless scamming that goes on at almost every tourist hot spot in
the world, I said that I’d rather walk because I needed the exercise. The agent and my driver continued in their attempts to persuade, until I finally put my foot down. Soon the agent of scam fled from the car and I laid down the law to my driver, whom I’d hired for the day. He quickly realized that his ploy to make commissions off me from touts, carpet salesmen and travel agencies was a lost cause. I set it straight that I had come to Egypt to see pyramids, tombs and mummies and not his stinkin’ carpet that he kept going on about; unless of course it was magic. After my driver choked up a “yes sir” and we drove to the entrance gates, I purchased my ticket for 30 Egyptian pounds (thanks to my student card from Thailand) and toured all of the pyramids in under an hour and a half. So, either a kilometer has been internationally reduced to a smaller distance or those smooth talkers were trying to pull one over on me - what do you think?
The Pyramids of Giza, which are one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, rise up
from the sandy plateau and shadow ever onlooker with their immense size and wonder. The limestone ruins consist of the Great Pyramid of Cheops (Khufu), which is the oldest pyramid of Giza and largest in Egypt, the Pyramid of Chephren (Khafre), the Pyramid of Mycerinus (Menkaure), and the Sphinx (known as Abu al Hol - Father of Terror). Being one of the Seven Wonders not only means that the site is astonishing beyond words, but also that the number of tourists crowding in your shot is going to be a wonder in its own. As I stood in awe of the Sphinx, which has the head of the Pharaoh meaning wisdom and the body of a lion meaning strength, I turned to find a group of young Egyptian men staring at me with the same kind of awe. “Stone Cold Steve Austin,” one suddenly shouted as the group crowded around me. Deciding not to deny the fact and disappoint their jubilation in meeting their favorite American wrestler, I posed in a picture with each one, displaying the toughest wrestling face I could muster, and waved to them off and on over the next hour whenever my fake name was shouted
from afar.
After the Giza pyramids, I headed outside of town to the ruins of Saqqara, which is a large necropolis, or cemetery in lame man’s terms…I mean layman’s terms, covered with pyramids, temples, shrines and tombs. The Step Pyramid of Zoser, which stands in the midst of the burial ruins, is the world’s oldest stone monument. What I found even more impressive than the pyramid was the fact that there were more local guides and touts present within the gates than there were stone structures. Every local who spoke to you or offered to take your picture expected a tip for his so-called assistance. As I walked by a hieroglyph, one would start spouting out the age it dated back to and then finish by sticking his hand out or rubbing his fingers together in the international sign for “I want cash.” Of course, I returned the gesture with my international sign for I’m deaf, dumb and blind and continued on past them. One funny example of this persistent money-hunger behavior happened when I was standing in front of the Great Pyramid of Cheops. While attempting to photograph myself with the pyramid as a backdrop, a friendly police
officer working security for the ruins came over and offered his assistance. After taking my picture, in which the amateur chopped off half of the pyramid, he then rubbed his fingers together in the “I want cash” motion and asked for a small tip for his help. The tip I gave him was more like an enlightenment: “help is an act of kindness and if you really want money, then first you need to learn how to take a good picture,” I said as a delivered a cynical smirk and walk away. Don’t worry, there were too many witnesses around for him to say anything; plus he didn’t even have a pistol. He was more like a rent-a-dummy.
Back at my hostel, I began to plan for what would be a whirl wind tour of Egypt that would stretch me thin in every which way. Now before I disclose what my up-and-coming travels entail, let me continue on for not to spoil.
In order to fit in as much as possible, I booked a night train to Luxor that evening and had my hostel manager arrange me a 2 day-tour starting the following afternoon.
Heading south from
Cairo to Luxor, the stark, desert landscape soon turned to lush, fertile lands. Our journey paralleled the Nile River until it delivered us into the ancient splendor of southern Egypt. The sight of young kids riding donkeys, men wearing turbans and desert robes chewing on sugar cane, and women covered by head scarves, lay just outside my train window. The reflection of palms and cotton-shaped clouds could be seen rippling in the waters of the Nile. The reeds along the river bent with the wind as feluccas carried the gentle breeze down the current.
After arriving in Luxor, I quickly made my way to the market to grab a bite to eat after having missed both dinner and breakfast. For less than a dollar, I stuffed down a couple of falafel wraps (that had beans in it which I discovered later) and a sprite and then headed back to the hotel to rest a spell before my tour that evening.
In order to properly understand the history behind the sites in Luxor, which is built on and around the ancient city of Thebes, I decided to join an organized tour. I’m not one to usually go parading around
with a pack of tourists, but I felt that I needed to learn a little something this time instead of my usual guessing. That evening I accompanied my small group to see the ruins of the East Bank. These sites consisted of the Temples of Karnak and the Luxor Temple. The Temple of Karnak was truly staggering. The pillars of the structure alone were a wonder to behold. The early Egyptians really must have been worried about their roofs caving in on their heads, because the size of the structural pillars was enormous. Each one was engraved completely over with hieroglyphics. Outside of the main structure stood a huge obelisk that made the pillars seem minuet in size. I could go on and on about the size and artistic beauty all of the Egyptian sites, but it still wouldn’t do them justice.
The Luxor Temple was also impressive, but not as massive as the Karnak. Evidence of ruler’s such as pharaoh Amenhotep III, Tutankhamun, Ramses II, Nectanebo, Alexander the Great, and various Romans, was present in the form of statues or hieroglyphs. An aisle of Sphinx statues lined a pathway on the northern side of the temple and The
Nile River lay only a small distance away to the west. The whole scene truly gave off a Pharaonic feel that transported me back to ancient times.
Day two of my tour was long, hot and humid, but still very interesting. The location of the ruins all lay on the West bank of the Nile. The sites consisted of The Valley of the Kings, Deir al-Bahri (Funerary Temple of Hatshepsut), The Valley of the Queens, and the Colossi of Memnon.
As I walked through the crowd-congested Valley of the Kings, rays from the sun toasted my shiny, hairless head and the thick, humid air made it feel as if I was breathing in water. The only escape from the desert heat was to enter the tombs of the deceased Kings of Egypt. The burial chambers, sixty-two in all, were spread throughout the valley and tunneled deep into the base of the mountain. Along every inch of the tunnels ,that led down to the burial chamber were the king’s carsophicus lay, hieroglyphics portraying the after life remained carved and painted. I found the hieroglyphs the most impressive part of the tour, simply because of the extraordinarily tedious amount of
time required for their completion. Pictures were not aloud inside the tombs, so I guess you’ll just have to come see for yourselves one day. At the Valley of the Queen’s, the Tomb of Nefertari (Ramses II’s wife and said to be the most beautiful and famous of all Egyptian queens) was closed for restoration…too bad. Next on our tour came the Funerary Temple of Hatshepsut. The massive, three-level temple was built into the sheer limestone cliffs of the eastern side of the Theban mountains. The series of terraces blended in with the color of the mountain giving the appearance that it was carved out from the stone. As with every structure in Luxor, hieroglyphs and statues are found throughout the ruin.
To finish the tour, we drove out to where the temple of Amenhotep III once stood. The entire structure was washed away by flood waters except for the two large statues that stood at the front entrance, known as the Colossi of Memnon. These 18m-high statues were believed by the Greeks to be statues of Memnon, who was killed by Achilles in the Trojan War.
The city of Luxor was very impressive and satisfied my quota
for Egyptian ruins. So, after a long day of touring in the desert heat, I decided to hop a sixteen hour night bus to the Sinai Peninsula town of Dahab, which turned out to be eighteen and a half hours...yippee. The bus trip was not one of my easier experiences. Everyone on the bus was local, except for a pair of fellow backpackers who sat in the front, which meant that everyone else spoke Arabic and zero English. I learned all of my Arabic numbers after having difficulties at the Cairo train station, so at least I found the correct bus and seat. What came tough, were the tight conditions, fluctuating cabin temperatures, my gassy stomach, lack of communication, and did I mention that it was eighteen fun filled hours with no on-board toilet and only two bathroom stops.
Our journey took us along the Red Sea, across the Suez Canal, which splits Africa and Asia and links the Mediterranean with the Red Sea, and through the dry, and barren Sinai desert. The only views I had to distract my boredom were endless, jagged hills of light brown dirt, sand and rock. Most of the time, the winds coming
from the sea stirred up the sands of the wasteland and left no visibility whatsoever.
Already two hours past the expected arrival time, the bus finally came to rest at a small desert village in the middle of nowhere. I asked the non-English speaking chap beside me, who had been snuggling up on my shoulder all night, if this was the town of Dahab. He nodded his head in the gesture of a confident yes and I felt relieved to have finally reached my destination. I exited the bus in a complete daze and in dire need of some substance in my belly. A taxi driver approached within seconds of me removing my bag from under the bus. I asked if this was Dahab and he replied, “yes, Dahab,” and I continued past to grab a bite to eat. As I began to scarf down a dry piece of pita bread, I turned to ask the taxi driver, who’d followed me like a little puppy, how much for a ride to Bish Bishi hostel. He shook his head and claimed that there was no hostel by that name. I then argued that I just read in my book that
it was one of the most popular hostels in Dahab. Then to my surprise, he said, “You want to go to Dahab, no problem. I take you. Only thirty minutes away.” I whipped my head around to see that the bus had departed and then I flipped my lid. Throwing the food I’d just bought, and startling every Arab in the area, I began barking at the man like an angry dog…well, not actually barking, but throwing out all kinds of unpleasantries. I asked the man why on earth did he tell me that this was Dahab. He claimed that he thought I wanted to go to Dahab. I then posed the question: "Why would someone who was on a bus bound for Dahab get off and take a taxi the rest of the way?" The man stood there puzzled and didn’t have an answer. I then exclaimed that he’d better get his taxi and help me chase down my freakin’ bus. To make a long story short, after speeding down the road for a few miles, we found that my bus had stopped off at the next bus station to refuel. My bus driver sat there laughing as I
ran toward the petrol station. That was a close one. The next bus for Dahab, from wherever I’d stopped, wasn’t until the following day. The sneaky taxi driver who tried to make a quick buck, told me that I owed him 10 Egyptian pounds for the ride. I handed him five and said, “Don’t even think about arguing,” and boarded my bus. Just another one of my many taxing experiences with taxi drivers. God love'em...because it sure is hard for me.
Dahab is a small beach town that lies on the Red Sea. It is full of dive shops, tourists, and a little too pricey for my taste. I really wanted to go scuba diving in the Red Sea, but the waters were way too rough during my stay and the cost was double what I desired to pay. As soon as I arrived, I inquired about a trip to hike Mount Sinai…you know, the mountain that Moses received the Ten Commandments from God…yeah that one. To my luck, but not my bodies, a sunrise trip was leaving that night at eleven o’clock. The mountain was a two hour drive out into the desert and the hike would take
a few hours. This meant that I didn’t have to book a room, but it also meant that I wouldn’t be sleeping until the following night. I’m not a day sleeper and I’m never able to squeeze a nap in, so I just fought it out and tried to keep my bloodshot eyes from closing on me.
The hike up Mount Sinai (2285m) was really special because of the historical setting, but the number of tourists that snail crawled their way up the trail was like nothing I’ve ever seen. Hundreds of people lined the rocky slope and clogged its artery. The steps leading to the top are known as the Steps of Repentance, but I renamed them the Steps of Impatience because if I had hair it would now be gone. At the top, I soon forgot about all of the chaos that led me there and sat in admiration of the moment. I watched as the sun rose over the range in the distance and splashed the sky with tangerine rays of light fractured by the thin cloud cover. The sounds of Christian chorus sung in Russian graced the morning air. To my surprise the most numerous
tourists of the Sinai region are Russian with a close second going to the Chinese. I looked around at the hundreds of multiethnic faces that sat covered in blankets, gazing at the sun’s presentation. I soon felt ridiculous for even getting frustrated at the huge crowd. Most of the tourists present were Christians from every corner of the globe. I watched as old Chinese women walked past proudly displaying the cross on their necklace. This would have been an act forbidden in their own country and I can’t even begin to imagine what that lack of freedom would feel like.
At the foot of Mount Sinai rests an ancient monastery, known as St. Katherine’s, which first began as a small chapel built in the 4th century AD by Byzantine empress Helena. The chapel was built beside what was believed to be the burning bush from which God spoke to Moses. Another historical site in the area was Elijah’s Basin, which was a small plateau half way up Mount Sinai, where a 500-year-old cypress tree marks the spot where Elijah heard the voice of God. With all of these events happening on and around Mount Sinai, I kept my eyes
and ears wide open. In the end, I feel I did have a revelation, which could very well be the eleventh commandment (at least for me). I felt God pushing this very important point to me: Jeremy - Thou shall not eat beans and ride a night bus. For those of you who think I’m joking; I just wish you could’ve been seated beside me on that bouncing, humid bus.
Back in Dahab, I stood and stared out at the Red Sea and thought about how amazing it would have been to witness God separate that huge body of water. I had now seen Mount Sinai and the Red Sea, but this only made it certain to me that I must see more. Since I’m so blessed to have the chance to be here in this moment, I have decided to bump up my flight date and proceed into Jordan, head north to the Dead Sea and then into Jerusalem, where I’ll spend some time before finding a way back to Cairo. Instead of checking into a room in Duhab, I headed north to Nuweiba, where I will attempt to catch a boat across the Red Sea to the
country of Jordan. Nothing is set in stone, but this is my plan. Things may very well change. I’m still dealing with changing my upcoming flights, so we’ll just have to see. But don’t you all worry, I’ve got my Arabic numbers down and that’s half the battle.
“Allah hu Akbar Allah hu Akbar, Allah hu Akbar Allah hu Akbar, Ash - hadu an-la Ila ha-illallah, Ash - hadu an-la Ila ha-illallah. God is great, God is Great, I bear witness that there is no god but God.” These are the words I hear announced from the many mosques throughout the city five times a day: once in the morning, once around noon, and three times in the evening. During these few minutes of united religious observation, many people stop what they are doing in shops, along the side walk, or wherever they may be, and drop to their knees toward Mecca and pray to Allah. It was quite an impressive site to see as my taxi drove through downtown Cairo and I passed block after block of locals on their knees all bowed in worship. Ninety-four percent of the population in Egypt is Muslim and ninety-two percent of
Jordan’s populace is as well. At first this was something I felt concerned about because of the obvious resentment I received through undisguised looks from some of the local Muslims in Malaysia and India. However, Egypt has proven to be a friendly place. In this section of the Middle East (Egypt, Jordan and Israel), the lives of Christians, Muslims and Jews intersect on a daily basis. This has given me a different perspective and I hope to learn more as I travel deeper into the Middle East.
Over the past week, I’ve moved like a sandstorm through Egypt and now it’s time to push on. I will return in a couple of weeks for my flight to Eastern Europe, so this is not my final farewell to the land of pyramids. Hopefully I’ll get some sleep very soon, because I’m walking around here like a dazed mummy who just rose from his carsophicus. It sure was great to hear from you all after my last entry. Even though I couldn’t respond to everyone, just know that your e-mails were read and greatly appreciated. Now, I’m off for Jordan and I’ll write you all soon - Take care and God
Bless.
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Beth Calvert
non-member comment
WOW
I am so glad you were able to move into this portion of th trip. What amazing sights. Do you miss the IAA kids? Love, Beth