March 20We slept in until 8:30 as we had no definite plans. In the morning Nabil suggested that we take a taxi to Islalmic Cairo and just take in the atmosphere. We took him up on his advice. We hailed a cab. It was one of the most run-down pieces of machinery that you have ever seen. No seatbelts of course. Dented from an untold number of fender benders. The handles to roll down the windows were gone. We got in and offered him 10 pounds ($2) to take us to Bab El-Fahir. With his wizened, toothless face the he grinned widely and motioned us to get in. We were off!
The traffic in Cairo is unbelievable. No one follows any conventional ‘rules of the road’. It’s just one big free-for-all! Cars and buses don’t honour lanes and near-misses happen, seemingly, once per minute. Amid the din of honking horns and screeches buses spew clouds of black deisel fumes. Pedestrians just walk right out into the bedlam. This is how it works: if you’re a pedestrian and are crossing the street, there is no good time to go… ever. So you just begin walking into the traffic. As long as the cars see you, they will not hit you, but they will pass by you or stop in front of you a hair’s breath away.
The taxi ride is, therefore, an incredible drama. Our driver confidently began negotiating the streets. Twice he drove up beside another taxi and yelled questions. Each of the drivers shrugged. It soon became apparent that although we were ten minutes into the ride, the driver hadn’t a clue where he was going. The four of us got an incredible fit of giggles once we realized this. The driver now ‘knew that we knew’ and laughed along with us! He had hit pay dirt with this fare and he wasn’t going to let on that he hadn’t a clue where Bab El-Fahir was!! After yet another ten minutes, he nonchalantly pulled over. We saw him walk over to an old man. I (Deb) hopped out with our guide book and showed them a map of Islamic Cairo. After much discussion between the two men, we were once again on our way. To give our driver credit, he ended up taking us exactly where we wanted to go.
We began walking around Islamic Cairo. After hydrating ourselves well, we were soon in search of a bathroom. This, however, was not an area for tourists. We asked the caretaker of a mosque whether he knew where we could find a toilet. He pointed inside the mosque and motioned for us to remove our shoes. He then brought us through a maze of corridors until we reached a huge open area. Next, he brought us across to an area where an man in traditional Islamic clothing was washing himself in an open sink area in preparation for prayer. The washroom stalls were just to his right. Ryan looked in and said, “There aren’t any toilets here!” I explained that the majority of the world uses the type of bathroom consisting of a hole in the floor with two slightly raised areas to put your feet on either side. I went in and had finished up before realizing that there was only a hose with which to wash. I had no kleenex or toilet paper on me. A few ticket stubs that I found in my back pocket did the trick.
In the market we met a twenty-two year old Egyptian spice-seller by the name of Ahmed. He was anxious to practice his English and, unlike the majority of shop owners, was not concerned about whether we purchased anything. He held a variety of spices in his hands for the children to smell. We then began asking each other questions about our lives. Are you married we asked. “Yes! I have two wives.” “Do you live together with your two wives?” “No!! I have two different flats for them.” “Do your wives know each other?” “No!! I spend one day with one wife and one with another.” “Do you have any children?” “Yes, I have one child with each wife.” Ahmed then took out his wallet and showed us each of his wives. “Can I be your third wife,” I asked. “Ha! You have good husband.” He looked at Joe and Joe laughed. “You want Viagra?” Ahmed asked. The four of us laughed and bid him good-bye.
Lunch was one of my best experiences ever – not that lunch, four chicken schwarmas, was so incredible. Our café faced the massive Hussein Mosque. As we sat down the ‘call to prayer’ had just begun. Literally over a thousand of men from the market converged on the mosque. Outside they had set up towering umbrellas as the mosque could not contain the masses – it was a bank and government holiday and the bazaar was packed. So right in front of us hundreds of men put down their mats and chanted their prayers for a half an hour or so. The loudspeakers above blared so loudly that we could barely hear one another when we talked, so we just sat back and watched until prayers ended. One minute there were thousands of people in front of us. A few minutes later, the square was all but empty.
Armed guards were everywhere as it was only a few weeks ago that the market was bombed by terrorists. A couple of French tourists, I believe, in addition to a few locals lost their lives. It was good to see that the area had returned to normal despite a fews fanatics desire to keep it from being so.
After leaving Islamic Cairo we went to the Nile Hilton. We checked out the pool and the little cabanas that surrounded it that looked like mini hotel rooms – these could be rented for $60 a day from sunrise to sunset. We went down to the health club and enquired about playing tennis. Soon, after paying 39 pounds, we were all set up on the clay courts near the pool complete with a ball boy. Ryan and I won. I was disappointed upon leaving to learn that I had lost my hat. It wasn’t just any old hat. When we were on the beach in the Dominican Republic a year ago I saw a woman with a white wide-brimmed Tilley-looking hat with a black brim. I told the lady that I liked her hat and she took it off and handed it to me. It was a Tilley knock-off she explained and she had bought it for under ten bucks at a department store. Although I said that I couldn’t take it, she insisted. We got talking and I told her that we were planning to travel in a year. I promised her that I would write to her to tell her where her hat had been and send along a few pictures. I felt badly that I would have to write and tell her that her hat had made it to Egypt only to be lost. At least I have a few pictures with it on that I can send to her!
We then went to look for food/drink supplies as we were taking the sleeping train to Luxor in the evening. We ended up getting horribly lost. We hadn’t written down our hotel address in Arabic so no one could help us. After wandering downtown for a good hour, we called the hotel and eventually got the address translated. We soon found the hotel and packed up for the train trip.
I had asked Nabil if he would be kind enough to pack a lunch for Brendan as he couldn’t eat the food on the train. As we were leaving he handed us a huge bag containing chicken, French fries, an egg, bread, and tomato. He would not let us pay him for it. We thanked him profusely before meeting Magdi, our driver who took us to the station. While waiting for our train we spent an hour talking to six guys travelling together. They were students studying engineering doing an internship in Zurich who were on a break and also heading to Luxor. We shared travel stories and the time just flew!
The boys were so excited when we boarded the sleeping train to Luxor. It’s a first-class tourist train and the cars are protected by armed guards. We had a dinner of fish, chicken, tahini, and rice and settled in. The boys read for an hour and were out like lights when we told them it was time to sleep. When we wake in the morning we’ll have breakfast and arrive soon thereafter in Luxor. We’ll be staying in a two-bedroom apartment at ‘Mara’s’. The rooms are decorated in traditional Egyptian décor. Mara is an Irish woman who settled in Luxor. I found her place on the internet. We’ve been emailing each other several times regarding how to feed Brendan and she has promised to take good care of us. She has a restaurant on site and will supervise his meals throughout our five day stay. Sleep beckons.
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