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.