Karnak

Temples and Sites
by Orlando A

Today we went to Karnak temple. It was only a three block walk, we woke up and Candice gathered up some lunch stuff for the kids and we walked down the road a bit and went in. The site is huge and was quite impressive, athough there are areas closed and being reconstructed. Not bad though, considering the site lay buried in sand for about 1000 years.


It is humbling to consider the number of people throughout time who have walked through the space you occupy as you walk and sit in the temple. Meanwhile Russians walk by rudely and you try to ignore them. I thought Americans were the brash tourists of the world, not anymore! I met my first American in the last ten days sitting in a little shop inside the compound, she was nice as can be and from Connecticut. She operates tours here and has been doing so for over 20 some odd years. I wonder is she is followed down the street by vendors and such with chants of Obama! Probably not.


Anywhow, this temple was central to the worship of Amun, or Amon who is still a part of the amalgamated God form worshipped by many unbeknownst adherents to the mysteries around the world today in one form or another as they let it be, or so it is said. Of course the later Amen was synergized with the god Ra who is a solar diety and thus became Amen-Ra. While all this was going on, most other god concepts didn't exist or were just coming into existance.

Technically, our modern English name for the creator, "God", comes from the German Language as "Gott." This language didn't come into a full existance until after the 6th century AD. So the word assigned to name our creator, "God" didn't come into being until a thousand or so years later, than when Egyptian high culture was defining and communicating with God right in these here temples. Although I suppose that aspect of the creator was assigned to Ptah. But I digress.


We just scratched the surface with a three hour visit to the temple today. We saw the row of sphinxes, which originally led to the Nile, the Colossus of Ramses II, the Great Hypostle Hall and the obelisk of Hatshepsut. This is the largest obelisk in Egypt, since they been jacking them (well technically gifting them) and putting them in London, Paris, DC, New York and so on. Nice to see one still here though. We didn't go into the open air museum which is supposed to be magnificent. However, the kids were looking like they were draining down, and we had to force Asari to drink water when she started looking like a zombie. After a few minutes and a few nice drinks of water, she was fine, but we decided, better safe than sorry. We did manage a few other sites within Karnak however.



We were led in the back to the temple of Ptah where his headless statue and his wife Sekhmet's statue remains. I am still trying to get a grasp on everything here, however, I suspect the next temple we will head to is Luxor Temple, which is really an extension of this one, it is a few miles down the road, however, it is also beneath where I sit writing on my bed, because technically, the temple exists beneath as well, since we are only viewing excavated sections above ground. Happy halloween to all my US friends, picture me in the temples tonight, underground, drinking a brew with a mummy.

To Market

Day by Day
by Orlando A

Yesterday I went out with my landlady, J, and our neighbor, P, for a trip to the market. This was really nice because it allowed us to learn how to use the bus system here, besides the good company, of course. The bus costs 35 piastres. This is the equivalent of five US cents. However, the buses are really more like minivans that stop when they see passengers who wave and if they are full they drive on. They have a little stripe on them at the bottom, the yellow striped bus goes only into the edge of town, the blue striped bus goes all the way into Luxor proper.



We went to town and bought all the necessities: paper products, cleansers, tea, fruit and whatnot. Later, J, explained something very valuable to me. She said, in her wonderful proper English accent to her husband; "you know when I was standing next to Orlando in the store, I realized he was getting the correct prices on things automatically, like he was being taken as a native. They probably wouldn't realize he wasn't Egyptian (or somehow local) until he opens his mouth." So in essence, if I keep my mouth shut, I will be fine. Yeah.

So anyway, we also visited a magnificent western styled market in town, called Arkwrights. It had very reasonably priced cheeses, juices, crackers, sandwiches and other things travelers from the west would appreciate.

As I walked with the two girls from the UK and my wife I got to soak in the looks from the various local men wondering what the hell was going on here. That was kind of funny. We later sat down at a cafe for tea and coffee. I had Turkish that was perfect and Candice had anise tea, which is said to be good for the stomach.

Later, after we got back home, we hung out on the roof with the kids, we met another neighbor A., who is here for a few weeks from the UK. She was extremely pleasant and talked about her time here and politics at home. She explained that she had come here some fifteen years ago and had begun working with an orphanage and has been coming every few months since that time.

She explained how different the West Bank, where the valley of the Kings and Queens is situated, is from the East Bank where Karnak and Luxor are. She told us that not only do they speak different dialects, there are different living standards, with the West Bank being more rural and agrarian than the East Bank which is more cosmopolitan. She advised me that most expatriates hang out on the other side.

She explained that there was a history of the government moving people from ancestral homes and so on over there. However, it also seems that some of those ancestral homes would be built over sites where tunnels would extend so that locals could gather and later export antiquities. So I have been told and read.

Anyway, I plan on getting over to that side next week and look forward to it. However, for now I am taking it easy and plan to walk over to Karnak in the next day or so. I plan on getting over there early packing a nice lunch and making a day of it. Expect wonderful pictures. Meanwhile I will be munching away on the large delicious mangoes and fresh dates I got from the market.

Anna Masari

Day by Day - Anna Masari (Day 9)
By Candice A.

Relative time in Egypt is still weird to me. We landed only nine days ago, but it seems like at least three weeks. I have trouble keeping up with what day it is because the rhythm is so different here. Back in America, you can sense what day it is because to me, each day has a ‘feeling’, if you know what I mean. Although at times it may be a Monday, and because it’s a holiday, you will think, “it feels like Sunday today”. So as of yet, no day has a particular energy to it for me. I wonder how long I will have to be here before I regain that ‘seventh’ sense.

Little by little I’m getting accustomed to walking in the street, as no one who lives here walks on the sidewalk, whenever there is one available to walk on. The curbs are so high that you have to give a big hop up and down each time a new block arises, which is kind of fun to me. But since you are immediately tagged as a foreigner if you walk on the sidewalk, I will stick to the street – especially since I’m not terrified of getting mowed down by a car whizzing by like I was in Cairo.

Today we had to run a few errands: pay a visit to the rental office concerning our new flat rental, visit the bank, and check out another flat owned by a clerk that works for the hotel we stayed in upon arriving here. Why were we going to check out another apartment when we just rented a perfectly good one a day earlier? Because when we told ‘Ayman’ that we were checking out to move to our new flat, he was horrified by what we told him we were paying and insisted that we should have spoken to him first because he had a place that was more than half less than what our rent was. To refresh, we currently pay 2800le (about $508us). He was offering his flat to us for 1000le, you can do the math and figure out how much that is in US dollars. Basically, it was an offer we couldn’t refuse.

So we hail a taxi to take us to the Mummification Museum, which is where we’d arranged to meet Ayman because we would have had trouble finding his place on our own, as there is not the ‘address’ system here that we are familiar with in America. ‘Mr. Fish’, the taxi owner we’d made acquaintance with on the previous day, didn’t make his way to President Mubarak Garden Park (where we were waiting in front of) because as we found out later that evening, he thought we were in front of Susanna Mubarak Garden (the first lady) – which was down the road aways. I will share more about Mr. Fish in Day 9, part II.

Being the green newbies that we are here, of course the current driver tried to charge us four times the price that he should have for the ride. “Forty pounds”, he insisted. (During a chat with our landlady later on, we discovered that we should wait until we get out of the cab, pass through the window to the driver the ten pounds he is owed for a local trip, then walk away). As he approaches, Ayman sees this fruitless negotiation taking place, gets in taxi and chats up the driver to take us to his flat.

After a few minutes we arrive to a very local part of Luxor and head up a lot of stairs. The place is mediocre, but workable for the rate – even with our other rental taken into consideration. We agree to meet the next day to finalize plans. We direct the seemingly unreasonable driver, who has been waiting downstairs for us all this time, back to where we live. As we pull into the street, he recognizes it and asks us in disbelief if we really live here, because his cousin owns the whole area. We say we do, his facial expression conveys a combination of surprised, happy and ashamed – gives us a bit of a better fare (though still more than local price), and drives off.

Walking back from a short toilet paper and snack run that night, we stop in the local market around the corner from our flat. We’d been in this store two or three times already, but tonight there is an older man there with the younger guys who we hadn’t seen before. We nod, give our hellos and start to look for what we need when the man ask us if we need help and where are we from. We say Chicago, and he gives Orlando the ‘soul brother’ three part handshake. We laugh and wonder aloud where he learned this from and he tells us that he lived in America for 22 years. Then he pulls a New York drivers license. Brooklyn baby! Soon we learn that this man’s name is Ali, and that he is Nubian. But wait, not only is he Nubian, but he was an apprentice under Dr. Yosef Ben-Jochannon aka Dr. Ben! And, he knows Dr. Leonard Jeffries and Ashra Kwesi.

For those that aren’t familiar, these men are some of the most revered scholars concerning Egyptian history and anthropology and are responsible for bringing the wealth of the information on the ancient culture back to the Americas and spreading it among our generation. After chatting about 30 more minutes, it feels like we are all old friends, and he welcomes us as family and offers his home and whatever else we may need. Notwithstanding all of the hassles and frustrations that we may have gone through since arriving in Egypt, this was one of the connections that we were hoping to experience while we were here. And it only took nine days to happen.

Duhh

Temples and Sites
by Orlando A

So the guidebook points Karnak as being beyond the map of Luxor which meant to me a few miles down the road, somewhere between three and thirty miles. We are chillin' this morning and go up to my landlord's apartment for tea - who is this English woman. She is cool, although you would have to sit with her for a minute to tell how cool.

So we are talking and she asks if we have gone to Karnak Temple yet. We are like, not yet, because we are just settling in and we will have to call a cab to get a ride over. So she says, get a cab? You can see it from here. She takes us out to her balcony and points a block away to the temple. Both our jaws drop. It was partially obscured by the park next door. Plus we hadn't ventured in that direction yet thinking that was where town ended.

Then she adds, actually you are on Karnak now, because the temple stretches beneath us. Luxor and Karnak were one originally, but they excavated those two parts. So yes, beneath us is Karnak. Earlier she had explained that the land the building we reside at now, sits on a spot that when the Nile was inundated, the royal family would use to enter on and off from the Nile. She advised us of the energies that we could expect to experience because of this fact. Hmmm....

She told us to walk around a few blocks behind the property and observe the bricks in some of the older houses there. They used the stone cut from the Temples and so many old homes have the hieroglyphs embedded in the bricks in their homes, just like the Mosque in the center of Karnak was built over the Coptic Church built over a part of the temple, using materials from the temple. Just like the religions. Pictures tomorrow.

Magic

Day by Day
By Orlando A

So we are out going to get some toilet paper and dish detergent and we decide to walk down a few blocks more on the Nile. We get the usual people asking about taxi rides and such but it is different this time. I realize that it is an honor in a way to be considered worthy of the requests, even if it is about the money. I figure it is better than being on the other side of the coin.

Anyway, I am struck by this young dark skinned brother who sees me and Candice and utters, welcome back. Initially, the one side of me is like huh, we haven't been here yet. Then I realize what he is saying... I felt like damn. Then it made me happy. We decided to go in his shop. He was proud of the work he did, he was crafting alabaster pieces and he was saying that he was a chef. I think he was saying that he made the pieces, but didn't know exactly how to say it. But we understood. The pride in his work kind of spoke louder than anything.

Still, since I am going to be here for a while I decided not to buy anything from him. So I told him and as we were about to walk out another gentleman walked in who was the shop manager. He was pleased to see us as well. He was pleased, even when we were leaving. So I figured this might be the real Egyptian hospitality we have been hearing about.

So we turn around and walk back home. We stop in the store on the corner of our block. We have only been in this flat for a day and a half. Only in Luxor three days. We know where we live and a few words of Arabic. We have a few friends, whom we count as our landlord and a cab driver who we met that was kind of cool.

When we walk in the store we see the shop owner, normally we only see his son and a couple of other kids who work there. We speak and the man eyes me for a minute. He asks where we are from and he is the first person I met who knows how to do the pound and shake correctly. He is damn sure about it too.

So me and Candice are like, what you know about that? He's like, I know about that because I lived in New York for like twenty something years. He adds that he is a Nubian. Me and Candice look at each other and smile. We are like, we been looking to catch up with some Nubian brothers and sisters. He smiles and says that he is going to have us over his house and cook for us, because he is a chef.

He asks us where we are staying and we tell him, right at the end of the block. He laughs and says he owns every house on the block except that one, which he sold to my landlord. We laugh. We know this is true because our cabdriver from the other day had mentioned that this man, named, A, owned almost every house on the block and that he was his relative. He also owns the Alabaster shop.

He says I used to work for the man in New York and pulls out his passports. He explains that he is a dual citizen. Then he asks if we know Dr. Ben. Dr. Ben-Jochannan. Me and Candice look at each other and laugh. We say we do and that we have been students of his, and his work for some time. He says that he asked because he worked for him when he was younger.

He further adds that Dr. Ben used to call him "Chicken George" when he was younger because he was smaller then. We laugh and we are in utter disbelief. The world is so small. He explains that he came to the US the first time with Dr. Ben and he knew Dr. Ben, Dr. Jeffries and the whole gang. He went on to tell us stories of his times in New York. This is on the way to buy toilet paper and dish detergent. Our neighbor was like, he was going to get us down to Aswan to hang with the Nubians! I am like damn!

He explains that Dr. Ben had sent him to school in New York to learn English and a trade and because of that he has been able to do well for himself and has even been able to build the Mosque in our neighborhood. I am thinking, man, the reach of Dr. Ben. Black folks don't even know.

We are connected from Africa to America and that is evident. We owe tremendous gratitude to Dr. Ben for his work and for his life. We are who we are because of what he has done and who he is and this is one more reminder about his work and contributions, and not just his but all the brothers from that time period who did lay the foundations, including Dr. Jeffries, Ashra Kwesi and all the others who we will be hearing about in stories from our neighbor.

Thank you.

Giza Station

Trails Travels Travails
by Orlando A

We start waiting for our ride to the Giza train station at about 6:00PM. I start to get nervous as I look at the building traffic outside the hotel window. I know it is a thirty minute or less drive and I know that the driver will drive like a madman, but standing traffic can make thirty minutes into a couple of hours very easily. Our ticket is for 8:30PM but the train arrives at 8:00PM.

The driver arrives at 6:30 and helps us load our luggage to his car. One of the hotel's helpers assists. I give him a few LE backshesh. He throws our bags on the top luggage rack on his cab. The cab is an older black and white cab. These cabs are the diesel bastards to the yellow cabs and closely related to the cabs that roam the streets of New Orleans. It spits and stinks fuel in the air and barely rolls out of first gear. I pray as we push on. Our driver doesn't speak much English. We are at a stand still and there is thick cigarette smoke and fuels fumes in the air.

No one in the cab speaks. We creep slowly up the boulevard and there are men walking up toward the car. The driver hisses and they move on. They act as if this hasn't happened, so do I. We creep. Traffic stops. I pray for about the fifth time in the last hour, I wonder if my mother-in-law would still considers me a heathen, probably.

The driver has a thing with women. Particularly women in hijab. When he seems them in the street he blows or yells at them, usually both. They look annoyed and scared. Sometimes he bowls his car towards them at full speed, they move only a slight bit faster. Otherwise, he is a polite driver, he lets a few men even pass before his car, something I have never seen before here.

After a few more minutes traffic opens up and we start to move, slowly at first and then more quickly. Soon we are moving at a good speed down the street looking across at the Nile.

The Nile is beautiful at night, the areas nearby are well manicured and very westernized. There are swank western hotels that pop up and sprout out elegantly above the green landscape. Suddenly we turn left, onto a street that takes us back to the gray city and pavement.

We arrive at Giza train station at 7:30. I make a decision on the likeliest candidate for the actual station house and proceed. There is a checkpoint which is easily navigated through at the entrance and soon we find ourselves at a far smaller station than the huge Ramses station.

Everything that Ramses station was to sights that Giza station was to smells. Musk, urine, cigarettes, gas all mixed and fighting for dominance were ever present. Seats were at a minimal and foreigners from around the world were gathered in groups waiting for their respective train, which we had to assume was our train, since there were numbers only for the cars, not for the trains.

Every thirty minutes or so the station announcer would yell or burp into a paper bag which would be amplified so that even if you could understand Arabic you would be at a loss for what he might be talking about. Since there were only two tracks below and the metro above, I assumed we were in the right place. Candice comments that this is probably the right place due to the number of European whites present. I agree. She adds that this is one of the few times she was actually pleased to see so many Europeans in such large numbers. I wish I had thought to say it and laugh nervously. I still am not positive that this is the place for the train. I am mostly sure. All the signs are in Arabic and I can speak a few words of Arabic but the written language is not very accessible right now.

Still at 8:00, there was no train. I tell myself I will wait until 8:15 and then ask someone, make sure I am in the right place. 8:10, an old train, a relic of the past century pulls into the station with only a few soldiers leering out at those seated waiting. This isn't our train. It is the one run by Egyptian Rail. 8:15, I go buy water and ask about the train, the clerk motions me forward on the platform with his shoulder. I understand. Voiture means car in French, I am in car six. Voiture six. I tell Candice, she looks dead on her feet. 8:20.

Next I ask the closest English speaker, Mike, about the trains. He says he is waiting on the 84, not the 82, but we probably want the same train since he is headed to Aswan and we are headed to Luxor which is headed in the same direction. I agree with him. He says that the train is probably late but he has been following the crowd too. He tells me he is American, from Hawaii, works in Alaska. I tell him I have a friend who does the same thing, tell him I have been to Hawaii. He doesn't seem to care.

He compares Cairo to a sped up LA, I agree and laugh. He calms me down and at about 8:40 another train approaches. It is possibly our train, it has a few sleeper cars. I approach car six, the conductor says that our train is the next one. I am even more relieved. The man behind me lights a cigarette, Candice moves far to the side.

The next train comes, about 10-20 minutes later, it is lined with soldiers. Either on leave or patrol, I cannot be sure. They look tired. We look as tired I am sure. There is a man selling tea, I love tea but I don't even debate a purchase. Shai, Shai, Shai? La'a...

About twenty minutes and a few trains later, the conductor takes my tickets and seats all of us. We have three sleeper cabins. The train is very nice. All the Europeans board. A few Egyptians board, we are on our way to Luxor.

A few minutes into the voyage our porter tells us dinner will be served and he will take our drink orders. I know that liquor is expensive in Egypt but I think I deserve a drink after the station and figure it will be a good way to sleep a bit on the train. When he comes back I order a whiskey special from the menu and a beer for both Candice and myself. 60 LE for the whiskey (special grade), equivalent of 11 US. About 2 US for a local beer, Luxor beer. No problem. Order some water and juice for the kids as well. A few dollars more, no problem.

The drinks arrive, they look nice. I think to myself, they know how to pour a drink here. Looks like two three fingers. Taste is very smooth. I am enjoying the scenery and surroundings. I think how this is such a superior experience to the Amtrak ride from Tampa to NYC. Smooth ride, clean cars, plenty of space, the music is kind of fruity, but oh well.



I know there is going to be an issue because I keep asking the porter for my bill and he keeps asking me if I want more drinks. I tell him no, it will be best to just give me my bill. So after a few requests he brings my bill. 350LE. What? 350LE is the equivalent of 64 US. I look at the bill and note the double whiskey specials which weigh in at a hefty 120LE or 22 US each. Side note, at the train station I bought a brand new very large suitcase, of very nice quality for 150 LE.

I look at the porter and hand him two 200LE notes and tell him to keep it. He encourages more drinks, I decline. He asks if we want to turn our beds out. I tell him in about an hour. I look at the clock and realize it is well past 11PM. The kids are looking pretty good, not too sleepy so we talk for a bit and then head to bed. After a second I realize they allow people to smoke in their cars and we share ventilation. This is going to ruin the start of a fabulous experience.

I wake to Candice breathing like Darth Vader. I wake to Candice banging and scraping against the stuck chain on the door. I wake to the train bumping against a connecting track. I wake to horrid fumes. Then I wake to my mistress Cleopatra. I realize I probably wont be getting much sleep at all. Then the headache comes hard. Even with chasing the special whiskey with a liter and a half of water it is banging on my head. Perhaps it is not because of the drink, maybe the stress of the day. However, the headache is still there and soon it will be four o'clock. I look to the window and open the curtains, there is the beautiful farmland of Egypt incubated by the Nile for thousands of years, it is wonderful. Then a slum. Then a farmland. I drink some Aqua, the brand name of the water. It tastes a lot better than the Baraka water, lighter and less mineral content.

It is morning. The sunrises slowly and the sky turns into a wonderful azure fixed portrait, there is a scenic beauty surrounding our fast moving train. Cigarette smoke has been entering our cabin via the ventilator throughout the night. Candice starts gagging first, normally that would be me. I cough. She coughs, the baby coughs and cries. We all drink water. We wonder if the porter is going to wake us when the train reaches Luxor. Of course he will, plus breakfast is included.

Soon the porter informs us that breakfast will be served and I ask how far to Luxor. He informs me that it is about an hour away. I thank him. He puts our beds down and serves breakfast. We eat croissants and cheese. Wish there was fruit, but these will do nicely. We drink plenty of water. I try to contain Cleopatra. I contemplate how quickly I can move from the train to the taxi to the hotel of our choice. It is directly next to Luxor. I am sure the driver will try and take me to another. Cleopatra will protest. I must be strong for both of us.

Don't believe your lying eyes

Day by Day
By Candice A.

Today was D-day, either venture out into the crazy streets of Cairo once more and visit the infamous Egyptian Museum - or miss out until months from now when we'll be in the city again. Despite being tired and having been ravaged by the stomach flu, we decided to take the opportunity while it was at hand. We managed to get three blocks from the hostel and could see the Museum across the wide boulevard when a man approached, offering to help keep us from getting run over crossing the street. Like many other Egyptians thus far, he proclaimed his love for Obama and America, then proceeded to tell us his story of the previous night with no sleep due to the birth of his granddaughter. In addition to that, it was the Islamic holy day - so all was right with the world and he was feeling no pain. In fact, it was such a special day he volunteered the confidential info that it would be better for us to see the Museum after 2pm in order to avoid all the other tourist. And since we were somewhat early, why not come and have some tea in his shop right down the way? After all, he has the best scented essences that could be found in all of Egypt. I'm sure that you can see where all of this is leading. Yes, we got suckered into the perfume shop, but he did have some delightful mango flower oil which I had never seen or smelled anywhere before. So the time was not a complete waste.


We finally manage to cross the street. Each time we do this and manage to survive, I want to kneel down and kiss the ground - thankful for another chance to breathe the smog-filled air. At the first entrance to the museum, the guard wants to see some id. We show him our ISIC cards (International Student Identification), but this isn't sufficient, he wants to see our passports. Interesting. I had some suspicions as to what this was about, and they were confirmed later by our landlady. Apparently, if you hold an Egyptian passport, you aren't welcome in the hotels, museums - any of the so-called 'tourist' spots. Stinks a bit too much like apartheid to me.


At the next checkpoint, we buy the tickets. This area was infested with rude tourists who didn't think that they should stand in line, but jump in front of you instead. We missed the third checkpoint and went ahead to the fourth, which was a big metal detector. (As a side note, all of the metal detectors I've gone through prior to and after this excursion, have been completely ignored when they go off.) The last hurdle was the only true security measure - a lady that rifled through your bags looking for cameras. If she found one, you would have to go all the way back to checkpoint number three and have them hold it for you. And so, we fought our way past some Japanese and Russian tourists, checked the camera, and finally got inside. Though it was dark, dusty and cramped, the antiquities were as majestic as I'd read about and imagined. If we'd managed to sneak in the camera, it would be no sweat taking pictures because the guards were either nodding or disinterested. Maybe next time.......


Saw quite a few huge golden crates that resembled the 'ark' from the Indiana Jones movie. The most interesting pieces by far were the statues that are said to be representative of Akhnenaton. Something wasn't right. Why did a 'man' have what are clearly breast, very wide hips, pouched belly resembling childbirth and feminine facial features? Hmmmm. One statue had the head lopped off. The caption said that there was uncertainty as to whether this was supposed to be Akhnenaton, or Nefertiti - his wife. How or why would a husband be confused with his wife? Did a little bit of research on this and there are many theories floating around. Some say that this particular artistic period was very liberal in meshing together male and female attributes. Others speculate that he had some 'disease' that made him have these feminine characteristics. I choose to just believe what my eyes tell me, cause there is definitely something not right with what we have been told to see thus far.

Egyptian Museum

We headed to the Egyptian Museum after all our stomachs had settled and our legs were back to some normalcy. I guess I should explain about the legs, that started the other day when we all walked up the red pyramid. The red pyramid was constructed at around 2500 BC by a pharaoh named Snefru.

While we all walked up to the entrance to the pyramid, only me and Leah went in. The going down was tricky, as the entrance and passageway slanted and was poorly lit. It is a three feet high and four feet long passage way. The passage stretches for a couple hundred feet or so. Once you reach the other end of the passage, you enter one of the three chambers housed within. You then climb a flight of stairs to view the other two chambers. It is a sumblime experience to be in the center of a pyramid. It is worth soaking in. After viewing, you climb back up the small passage, I was huffing and puffing, Leah, on the other hand was, just fine. You really have to love youth.

On the way up we saw a group of Russian tourists, and we spoke to them. Most of them spoke back. I realized even then, that my legs were going to be giving me hell for the next few days.
They started when going down those other steps that led up to the passageway from the outside, where the other kids and Candice were waiting. I realized that I would probably have to help CJ down, and I prayed we wouldn't fall off the side of the pyramid.

Anyway, back to today. My legs are feeling a bit better, but still have the tingling memories of the climb down the passage. Candice is recovering from Cleopatra's revenge and we know that if we are going to do the Egyptian Museum it has to be now. So we all get ready really slowly and head out.

We know the Egyptian Museum is about two or three blocks away. However, we know traffic can be hell, and this is a main street we are talking about. It is busy even though today - a Friday is equivalent to Saturday in the US, everyone is off from work and all.

So we head down the street and we are talking about how bad the traffic is and right when we are talking about it, crash! Right in front of our eyes this guy hits this ladies car. Then he gets out and yells at her. They are going on and on, so I snap a few pictures, we chuckle and move on.



Then we are approached by a gentleman, across the street from the museum. He is very friendly, which I should have known would be a problem. He tells us he speaks English and has been to Colorado, went skiing and broke a leg. He agrees that the streets are very chaotic, four million cars, twenty million people, one big city. He advised us not to go to the museum until after two, because that was when the tourists would begin to clear out. This was probably good advice. He says he wants us to have his card and if we need anything to call him. hmmm. He invites us for tea - the classic sales pitch. This time we have two choices, one is the papyrus shop and the other is the body oil shop. I wasn't going to do the papyrus, but I am a nut for body oil, so we sit and he starts his Bedouin bit.



"I am a Bedouin, you know what I mean, you know what a Bedouin means? There is only one God, you call him Allah, Jehovah, whatever, but we all have one God. A Bedouin doesn't drink, steal, cheat, non of that..." Yeah, so we have tea. He breaks out this mango body oil. I have smelled a lot of body oil, used to sell it too, but I have to admit this was pretty good stuff, the rest of his stuff was so so, but that mango oil was good. So we bought some and listened to a few more of his stories. He had photos of Omar Sharif chilling in his place. He said Omar liked the orange oil as aftershave. Figured, if it was good enough for Omar, it was good enough for me.
Then we had to negotiate prices. I will come to learn to love this part. Right now though, it is pretty annoying. However, it is funny how ritualized the whole bargaining process is. So we buy the oil and leave.

We try to cross the street and there is wild traffic crossing. It seems like chaos screaming towards you at every second crossing, and you have to deal with this from traffic racing chaotically both ways. We make it past the traffic and we hit the entry gate which is not the entrance to the museum. This gate is where they check for passports. I dig out an ID because I'm a bit superstitious about my passport, I have visions of bad bad things pop in my mind whenever I am not in possession of it. He insists, and is a government soldier, so I dig out my passport and he scrutinized it for a bit hands it back.

We go to the next gate which is the entrance to the museum, you have to be checked there as well. They look at my bag where I have some coins stored and they are like, "what is this?" I say, "a few coins." I see the guards eyes and go to grab them back, and he keeps eying them. One guard offers, souvenirs? I agree. Slowly he gives them back and we move on to the ticket desk.

Even before the ticket desk I realized that there were hell of Russian and Japanese tourists. Now they could have been some Chinese and Slovaks as well, but to me they looked Japanese and Russian. So I get in line with the kids and Candice behind me.

That is when this crazy Russian lady hops in front of me. I look at her and see out of the corner of her eyes, her friend coming to cut me off too. Nope, I cut in front of her. She said, "I am with her." I said, "I know, but they are with me and your friend cut me off because of that." Her friend calls me a horrid man or something like that. Then she called me something like an asshole. That really did it for me, because I am pretty mellow, but she cuts in front of me and then insults me. So I called her a very very dirty name. Actually it was a series of insults, the human mouth is a very dirty place after all. The place I called her is probably dirtier. The people around us are clowning. When she walks off I add a bit of salt and pepper. She looks frazzled. The ticket clerk looks at me apologetically, I assume that means I was in the right.

The museum is packed. We find out that we have to go back outside and check the camera because there is a separate checkpoint for cameras at the door to the museum. I contemplate forsaking the experience until we return to Cairo in a few months, it is very crowded and some of the patrons look worse than they smell. The best look like they have been hijacked from Disneyland and are waiting to see Mickey. I wonder what we look like.

Candice encourages me to go ahead and leave the camera. The camera check process is quicker than I thought, and somewhat secure, although someone does try to move ahead of me in line, I box them out. I think I will use the tsk sound with a finger next time. We enter the museum. There appear to be many questions that surround the connections between different periods though. Might be something more than meets the eye.

When we view Tutankhamen treasure I anger as I have to jockey for position. We will have to pick the time of our next visit very carefully. On our way back down the street cabs approach plentifully. I explain, we are three blocks away. I tell them exactly where, they drive on, to close for comfort. We race across the street a few times and arrive back at our room. New guests are arriving as we begin our departure.

Cleopatra's Revenge

So we had two things to do yesterday. One, we wanted to get train tickets to head down to Luxor and two, we wanted to go see the Egyptian Museum, which is a block maybe two from where we are staying. So I figured that would be an easy day. The train station is about a couple miles down. Figured, maybe we can walk it. These were my thoughts before I went to sleep.

Then, about 3AM I wake up with dull stabs to the abdomen, and without even thinking run to the bathroom. Ah, Cleopatra attacks! Repeat, repeat, repeat. What was that stuff they advised in the travel book. Prasil? No, not quite right. Imodium? Not sold here. Antinal. That's it! So plans get one extra task, buy antinal at the pharmacy on the way to the train station. No big deal.

Leave out to the station, walking. Traffic lights have no purpose here. You cross the street at your own peril and the pedestrian does not have the right of way. Best to go in crowds. I lead the way and after about three or four such outings Leah slips and falls right in the middle of the street. I look around and see a car barelling towards her and she is laying in the middle of a mostly dried oil spill. Her mom is yelling at her to get up.

First pharmacy, doesn't like my looks, or waiting for me to yell what I want over other customers. No big deal, take my money elsewhere. Second pharmacy, no problem, 12 antinal tablets, easy as pie, immediate semi-relief. Look behind me, see kids and Candice starting to get tired. This is about after a mile of walking from the hotel, the sun is almost directly overhead. We have about a mile left until we reach the train station, Ramses station.

We arrive at the station and it looks like a primordial Penn Station with everything written in Arabic. No problem, the Lonely Planet travel guide has a map. Use the map, pass through two police inspections and make my way to the very back of the station. This part of the station makes the other part look modern. Have to go underground to another part of the station where the foreign and longer distance transit tickets are sold, Luxor is a bit of a distance from here by train. Start thinking that I should have taken a flight. As we walk down the stairs, the local residents start to smile or smirk, like I am headed on my way to the underworld and don't know it. Hmm, can't be worse than the subway in Chicago, can it?

We reach the otherside and walk down a long corridor. There are various inlets into the building and offices. I go to an inlet that looks inviting and then go to the first window that looks close to where it would appear on the map. Stand in line and then this angry looking Arab cat get in front of me. I get back in front of him, give him a look up and down. Hope he isn't connected to some Arab mob. Then this other Arab woman does the same thing. She does it to the people in front of me too though. They let the agression stand, okay with me too then.

I move through the line slowly. Finally get to talk to the agent. I ask, "Do you speak English?" or "Deshki Englesi?" "Yeah," he responds disinterestedly. So then I ask "Can I get a ticket to Luxor?" He replies - "Over there," motioning with his shoulder. I ask "where over there?" He looks annoyed and is like, over whereever.

So, not to be discouraged and anxious to get to a reasonable restroom soon, I decide to reflect on my mental image of the map. This is where meditation could really come in handy. Help you pull the image from your head! I realize I am probably down two more station blocks or inlets from the one pictured. Get to one that has one window in English, well actually a western company name Abela. He leads me to another window. The sleepers. But they also have first class, which is 70% cheaper than a sleeper. I stand in that line, for first class, because I was hoping to buy one of these originally. However, the line moves incredibly slow. Cleopatra is tapping me on the shoulder and there are people trying to move in front of me in the non moving line again.

So I walk back to the Abela line and decide to buy a ticket. Look at my money and I am short a few dollars. On top of that they only take foreign currency (meaning US dollars or UK pounds) for this line. So I have to find a bank or an ATM. The kids and Candice are looking like they are dead. Meanwhile, I am thinking that I need to get these tickets because I want to get to Luxor as soon as possible. We navigate out of the station, search for an ATM. No luck. Try to get a cab for them, it is very difficult, because while I do have a card for the hotel, I only later realize that something like 50% of the population can not read even if the card is in Arabic.

So we try to walk back to the main street, or sharia - Sharia Ramses in this case, but end up going beneath an underpass instead which doubles our walking time. In the middle of this CJ busts out, "I want to go home, I want to sit down." He does this in the way only a four year old can. I look over at Candice and she is looking helpless, because Jacob has demanded that he be carried the whole way.

Later after we try about three cabs we are in luck, although this is one of the fabbled black and white cabs. Talk about a roller coaster ride. He almost hits a bus and then yells at the bus driver, they are pinned together in the intersection yelling at each other. Someone else gets their attention and orders the cab driver to drive on. This person isn't a cop or something, he is just another person.

So we get back to the hotel. The bank is next door. I take money out, send them inside the hotel and repeat the process. About an hour or two later I get to use the restroom. We didn't make it to the museum. We will try that today, but Cleopatra hit Candice at about 2 last night. We leave to Luxor at 8:30 tonight via sleeper train.

New Blog!

Well, I figured I would create a new blog because the posts on facebook are going to be a bit limiting insofar as the events going on in Cairo and in other parts of Egypt. Man two hours is like a full day here with so much to see and experience and do. This is one of the craziest cities I have ever been to but it is also a wonderful experience.