As I have heard from numerous travelers heading north from there, Cairo is not for the faint of heart. The traffic, the dust, the noise and the smog, plus the inumerable touts, make this a mind-blowing (or numbing) metropolis. I am still amazed that after three cab rides through the city, I have yet to see an accident. Lanes are mere options. Driver move fast, take any inch of roadway they can get, and repeatedly come within inches of pedestrians, horses, goats, camels, donkeys, cats and, of course, other cars. And yet, it works. There is a method to the madness, and who can beat a 20km taxi ride for five bucks? However, nothing cheap comes without a struggle. While haggling over prices can be fun, it is also exhausting. My visit to the Cairo Museum (which hosts a phenomenal collection by the way) was followed by a non-stop hassle walk through Khan Al-Kalili, the Great Bazaar. The nice thing about Egyptians though, is their stellar sense of humor and eagerness to help. The hassling can get old, sure, but thankfully they hardly ever take it too seriously, and jokes, handshakes, and offers of tea and cigarettes inevitably accompany even the most eager touts.
After my tiresome bout with the merchants of Cairo, a taste of the city's night-life seemed to be in order. My persuasive hotel proprietor, Ali, suggested, in glowing terms, a dinner cruise along the river Nile. So I threw down my 120 pounds, put on a nice shirt, and almost immediately regretted my decision. It seems I was the only one at my hotel who signed up, so myself, and my monosyllabic host Aywa, caught a taxi to the river and boarded a brightly-lit world of evil. I envision Hell as a sort of dinner cruise, where you're stuck at a table with someone who has already been there one thousand years and is bored stiff (Aywa), while the karaoke band enthusiastically and eternally belts out "Hotel California" and that hell-spawned Titanic theme song, all the while being electronically accompanied by...you guessed it, a Casio keyboard. So yes, I saw a vision of hell last night, and it manifested itself on a tourist-packed, cheeky dinner cruise down the longest river in the world.
But I exaggerate. Aywa finally warmed up after I used every conversation starter known to mankind, and watching the extremely buxom belly-dancer shake her stuff within inches of an elderly, unamused nun was definitely good for a laugh. The food was quite good, and hallelujah, it only lasted two hours.
The next morning, the most anticipated event of my entire trip was on my agenda: A tour of the Giza Plateau, and within moments of my arrival, I found myself atop a camel named Michael Jackson, laboriously traversing the sandy terrain which enveloped the Great Pyramid. Mr. Jackson was cranky. I know this because when I pulled left, he turned right. When I snapped the reins, he slowed down, and when I shot a photo of him, he grumbled and moaned. The camel is an amazing animal though, and one that I'm not sure I'd ever get used to. With their floppy snouts, protruding teeth, and gangly legs, they look like something out of a fantasy novel. And man, when they stand up you feel about twenty feet up.
It was a grand experience, riding about the Giza plateau atop a desert beast so unfamiliar to my eyes. But I must admit, I feel slightly at a loss for words regarding the Giza Pyramids. It resembled the feeling I had as a teenager upon seeing the Grand Canyon: they just don't seem real, and, how could they be? I think my brain slightly short-circuited as I looked at just one block of the Great Pyramid and tried to grasp the idea of the massive labor involved in this undertaking. It is comparable to trying to imagine a new primary color, or contemplating eternity. The concept simply does not compute in the human mind, and yet there it was: this ridiculously large superstructure weighing millions of tons, built millenia ago, by human hands lacking anything near modern technology. The inside was mind-blowing as well. A narrow shaft that climbs up, and up, into a small, unassuming chamber supposedly once laden with sumptuous and grand grave goods, plundered by unscrupulous thieves long ago.
The coolest thing though, is this: As my trip nears its end, it is not Aya Sophia, or Baalbeck, or Petra or even the Pyramids that is emblazoned in my mind. It is the people. Generous, kind and hospitable people who are vastly more interesting, and beautiful, than the most skillfully wrought pile of rocks.