Everyone's experience on the train
was a little different. I slept reasonably well, though the train was
loud, the rails uneven, and our quite antiquated car squeaked
incessantly. Anna said she "wasn't sure" if she slept, whereas K did
get some sleep. Charlotte and Barbara, however, had very little -- if
any sleep. We had been scheduled to arrive in Cairo shortly before
6:00am, but the delay from the night before had us arriving at a more
civilized hour. We were all already awake, but our steward knocked on
our doors about 6:30am and then delivered a continental-breakfast tray.
I don't think any of us really ate anything, though I did drink the
strong tea.
Around 7:30am, the steward announced that we were
approaching Giza station. This generated confusion, as I didn't know
there was a Giza station. Our hotel -- the same Le Meredien from the
previous week -- is in Giza, so getting off here would be more
convenient, but I looked at our tickets, and they showed us going
through to the central Cairo Station. Our fellow traveler, Oliver,
asked the steward if we were to get off, and he said "yes." I was
hesitant, in fears that our driver would be waiting at the central
station. Before I had time to further debate in my head, the train came
to an abrupt stop in Giza. We no real discussion, we all grabbed our
bags and rushed to get off. I was the last to disembark, and I was very
relieved to see that everyone else had already met up with Mahmoud on
the platform. Potential crisis averted.
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| The Massive New Museum of Egypt -- You Can See It Is Nowhere Near Completed |
He
whisked us through the still-quiet station and into a waiting van, and
we arrived at the hotel in about 10 minutes. It was still well before
check-in time, but we hoped our room would be ready before the regular
2:00pm check-in time. We had elected to not take the optional day trip
to Alexandria on this day, having decided we were too tired and not
really up for a three-hour drive each way, even though none of us had
seen Alexandria before. We were able to go in and enjoy the very
extensive breakfast buffet, after which we were told our rooms would be
ready by 9:00am. The girls had decided that they wanted to return to
the pyramids and go inside the Great Pyramid of Cheops. This requires
an additional ticket, and we'd already been told the previous week that
there is really nothing to see inside. That said, the girls didn't want
to miss the opportunity, so K elected to remain at the hotel --
enjoying the wifi in the hotel -- while Barbara and I took the girls
over to the pyramids. We were going to just hail a cab, but when we
asked the concierge, he offered up a car and driver, who could expedite
things. We took him up on the offer, and in a few minutes we were on
our way with yet another Mahmoud. His English was quite good, and he
got us through the security checkpoints and right up to the ticket area.
He explained all the options for tickets, and joined us in the
relatively short line to make sure we got the right tickets. It was
very confusing, as Barbara and I only needed tickets to access the
compound, whereas the girls wanted the extra ticket, allowing them to go
inside the pyramid. Our driver did all the talking, and I handed over
the money. I was thrust some change in all the confusion, which I
quickly tucked into my wallet. As we stood back from the ticket line,
and got in line to go through security and enter the complex, we looked
at the tickets, and they did not look correct. The driver forced his
way back to the front of the line, the two men yelled at each other, and
then he returned and told us "it is okay. If there is a problem, we'll
come back." With that, we went through the obligatory x-ray machine
and metal detector. The driver left us, to go park the car, and then he
was meeting us on the inside. By the time he rejoined us, we were all
convinced we had the wrong tickets, and we didn't want to send the girls
hiking up the pyramid part way and then wait in line, only to be turned
away, or coerced into paying a bribe. The driver told me to follow him
and we headed back to the security area. He engaged with the woman
watching the x-ray monitor. I laughed as she turned her body completely
away from the screen to talk. Meanwhile, bags were still going through
the machine with no one looking. They spoke animatedly for a while,
she inspected the tickets, and then she called over another man, who had
been wanding people who set off the metal detector. He joined the loud
conversation, and again, people kept streaming in, and the beeps of the
metal detector alarmed no one. The man finally addressed me in
English, and told me to follow him back to the ticket line. He told me
to point out which ticket window we had used. I did, and he barged in
front of the line and proceeded to yell at the man. I was called over,
and the man in the ticket booth yelled something, and then literally
threw a 50 Egyptian Pound (less than $3.00) note out the little window
to me. I had no idea why he did that, but then the security guy told me
I had purchased the wrong tickets. Didn't we already know that? He
asked me how much change I received, and I honestly had no recollection.
I was exacerbated, so I asked "just tell me how much you want so the
girls can go inside the pyramid." The man seemed insulted, and then
brought me over to the manager of the ticket operation. He was a short,
round man, who was sitting at a table with three other men, fiendishly
smoking cigarettes. The two men spoke, in elevated tones. The security
guy pointed at me, then pointed at the ticket window, and back again. I
was angry by now, and then the manager stood up, walked over, and
addressed me in near accent-free English. He too advised me that I had
the wrong tickets, WHICH I KNEW. I told him what I had paid, and then
again said I would pay what they wanted, but I wanted to be done. This,
too, seemed to insult him. I showed him the 50 Pound note and said it
was not mine, and I was not going to keep it. He put his hand on my
shoulder, pronounced me his friend, and then barked at the security guy.
In under two minutes he returned with two "all-access" tickets for the
girls. The manager handed them to me. I tried to give him the 50
Pound note, but he waived me off. I had encountered next-to-no sincere
Egyptians to this point, so rather than hold on to the money and later
be accused of something, I placed the note on the table and walked away.
By now the driver had rejoined me, and he walked me through the
security checkpoint, but this time he took my backpack and threw it over
the x-ray machine, and had me walk around the metal detector. It was
all very rushed, but I didn't care at that point.
Barbara and the
girls had been worried, and I missed several texts from them, but i
assured them we were "all sorted" and ready to go. The plateau was far
busier than it had been when we visited the week earlier, and majority
of visitors seemed to be locals. The next biggest contingent, by far,
were Chinese. With more tourists came more people trying to sell things
and get money from us. We encountered a new trick when several men
approached us wearing official looking badges. The first one asked us
for our tickets, which we showed, and then he took them and started to
lead us away. We protested, but he said he was from "the ministry" and
that his tour services were "included in the ticket." We knew this
wasn't true. He wanted to give us some lame "tour" and then ask for
money. I asked the tickets back. He hesitated, and I grabbed them. As
soon as he was away, another man tried the exact same ploy.
Aggravating. Barbara and I settled on some rocks below, while the girls
started to climb up. The line to enter the pyramid was gone, so they
disappeared almost immediately inside. They were gone for at least 15
minutes, during which Barbara and I had to waive off an endless line of
people trying to hawk us every conceivable piece of tourist crap
imaginable. We were done and ready to go when the girls returned.
 |
| Girls Getting Ready To Go Inside |
We
rallied back up with our driver, and asked that he take us down to the
Sphinx, at the bottom of the hill. We had not had a proper up-close
view of him the previous week. He again set up in a parking lot, and we
walked back into the complex. At one point we encountered another man
asking to see tickets. We tried to waive him off, but he protested,
making a convincing argument that we was legitimately checking tickets.
We fell for it, and he immediately shifted into "impromptu tour guide"
mode. Barbara grabbed the tickets back and we walked off quickly. He
yelled after her, "you need to smile. You are reflecting poorly on your
people." She, rightly so, answered, "I might smile, if I could trust
any single one of you." I cackled at that.
Down by the Sphinx we
were the only tourist, except for a very large group of Egyptian
high-school-age students. As had been the case at the Citadel the
previous weekend, they were immediately fixated on the girls. It was
almost comical to see the boys immediately look, huddle, and then try to
create way to take selfie pictures, either with Anna, or with her in
the background. Several of them walked up to her and, very politely,
asked for a picture. Anna told them all "no," and I positioned myself
to shield her. They were not threatening in any way and, in fact, it
was not even overtly sexual, as many girls also tried to get a picture
with her. I think, sincerely, it was the novelty of a blonde, foreign
girl.
On
the way out, we had to navigate the expected line of tourist stalls.
Charlotte stopped to look at hats, which garnered a lot of attention.
Anna took advantage of that to start looking at some fake Ray Ban
sunglasses -- they were emblazoned with "Bay Ran" as their logo. She
found a pair. They man asked for 500 pounds ($28). We laughed. He
asked how much, and I said $50 ($2.75). He was "insulted" and we walked
away. In all previous times, walking away was always followed by the
man chasing after us, demanding a new price. This time he didn't move,
which was fine. Anna and I joked that I had finally succeeded to
offering a sincerely too-low price. We walked all the way down and
around the base, to the entrance of the parking lot, when the man
reemerged at the tree line. He held up the glasses and yelled, "how
much?" I repeated 50 Pounds, and we got into the car. As we were
pulling out, the man ran up to the car. We rolled down the window and
he said, "okay." Anna handed him the money through the window and we
were off. In hindsight I feel bad, as it was another perfect
illustration for how desperate these people are for any income.
Granted, the man probably still made 100-percent profit, but a dollar or
so isn't going to go too far.
We returned to the hotel, where K
had been very happy, taking advantage of the fast wi-fi to catch up on
things, and then read. We had wanted to do one last shopping trip, but
weren't up for facing the bazaar. One of our tour books has mentioned a
"fair-trade" craft store, that carried items made by various groups and
subsidized by non-governmental organization (NGO's). We elected to
keep our driver for a couple more hours and head down there -- it was
located in the heart of the city, in the core diplomatic enclave. Anna
elected to stay behind, shower, and nap, and K took her seat in the car.
We checked and our rooms were ready. I was very happy when they
announced that three of us had been upgraded to the Presidential Suite.
I have gold status with Marriott and Starwood, and I guess that worked
in the unexpected upgrade. The man was very happy to present us with
the key, and to repeatedly say "it's our nicest suite." The hotel is
built in a u-shape, around a central pool complex, framing a view to the
pyramids. Our suite was at the very far end, as far from the lobby as
possible, so it was a hike. When we navigated the final turn and
approached an imposing set of double doors with a prominent
"Presidential Suite" sign on the wall, two men were there to greet us,
and make sure we were settled. The suite was huge, with beautifully
paneled entrance hall, living room, formal dining room, kitchen,
dressing area, master bedroom, and two bathrooms. It had three
full-size sliding doors which opened onto a private patio overlooking
the pool area. i could learn to live like that.
Anna
was now even happier with her decision to stay behind, whereas we piled
back into the car and headed downtown. As Friday, it was the quietest
day of the week, and the roads were "relatively" quiet. The drive down
took about 40 minutes. The street on which the shop was located was
very small, and the driver had to stop and ask several people for
directions. We eventually found ourselves on a very narrow residential
street, with cars parked on both sides. At several spots, the driver
had to very carefully squeeze between them, even folding in the
rear-view mirrors. There was a small sign alerted us we were in the
right place. With no place to park, he dropped us off and asked me to
call when we were done. The shop was on the second floor of a
residential building, and we had to buzz to be let in. The shop was set
up in a former apartment and, in the beginning, we were the only ones
there. Several small groups of expatriates joined us later. It was a
beautiful shop with all kinds of craft items. For example, there was
silver jewelry made by female burn and acid-attack victims. There were
rugs made by orphaned African migrants. What was even nicer is that the
lone shopkeeper left us alone completely, and the incredibly low prices
were fixed and clearly displayed on the items. It was nirvana after
the previous week of hard-sell merchants and endless haggling.
 |
| Driving Downtown |
After
finishing up, we went back to street level and I called the driver. He
whispered that he would be there shortly. We keep heard the noon-time
call-to-prayer, and we could hear the Friday sermons being broadcast
from various locations. I peaked around the corner of the street, and
the neighboring sidestreet was completely full of men sitting on prayer
rugs, listening to the sermon. A smaller row of women sat in the rear.
I felt as though I was intruding when I looked around. When the driver
arrived, he explained that he too had just joined another prayer
service when I called, and that is why he was whispering when I called.
As we made our way back toward Giza, we passed countless mosques, with
huge numbers of people spilled out into the street, sitting, and
listening to the sermons. In many places, the streets were partially
blocked with people praying. They seemed to be everywhere.
 |
| Friday Sermons |
It
was around 2:00 or so when we returned. Our next plan for the day was
to meet up with a work colleague of Barbara's, who lives in Cairo. She
used to visit quite often when she worked for Save the Children, and she
had been close with this man. He and his family had invited us all to
dinner at the famous Mena House Hotel, which sits directly at the base
of the pyramids. Barbara and Charlotte went to rest up, Anna was still
asleep, and K and I decided to change and enjoy the pool for a while,
which was very nice. We then all ended up napping for a while before
dressing for dinner and getting a driver to take us over to Mena House.
The complex was absolutely beautiful. I knew I had stayed there during
my high school trip, but I had little formal memory of it. We ate
outside, in a stunning setting, with outstanding views. There was a
huge wedding reception being held in the formal garden area, abutting
where we were eating. I cannot imagine how much that wedding must have
cost. Being right there, though, meant that we had a great view to
watch the wedding and all of the traditions wrapped up into it. At the
same time, at a table across from us, we witnessed a young man propose
to a girl. Anna caught first glance and told us to look over, just as
the man was dropping to his knew and presenting the ring. The two of
them were accompanied by another young woman, but we presume was a
family member serving as a chaperone. It was really touching to watch,
and to watch over the course of the evening as the girl called -- we
presume -- her family and friends to announce the event. The meal
itself was outstanding, and Sharif, his wife, and grown daughter were
delightful company. It was so nice to interact with genuine and sincere
Egyptians, from whom we had pretty much been completely shielded during
our trip.
 |
| Enjoying the Pool |
 |
| Our Private Balcony |
 |
| Mena House Hotel |
 |
| Lavish Wedding Reception |
We
made it back to the hotel around 10:00pm, and our transport to the
airport was leaving at 11:00. That left us just enough time to formally
close up all the bags, say good-bye to our suite, and then rally back
up in the lobby.
