The Massive Trip, Part III: Return to Cairo

Monday, November 20^th – The Egyptian Side

I think there is a curse on me in Egypt. After getting through immigration just fine, I walked to the bus station. I feared the worst as the ticket the guy gave me on Friday had Friday’s date on it in Arabic numerals. But I knew that this was the ticket that I was given for today.

I showed him the ticket and asked if it was for Cairo, and as I feared, he said it was for last Friday. Now, I needed to drop another seventy Egyptian Pounds for another ticket.

At first, I tried to be peaceful with him, explaining the misunderstanding and asking for my money back. He knew he made a mistake – he admitted it. He said he was sorry, but there was nothing he could do. Now I’m angry, and my words showed it. With the help of a very nice English-speaking man named Mohamed, I expressed my utter anger. I said that it was “just wrong” of this guy not to do right. “You make a mistake and you pay for it.” It’s something I’ve had to deal with too many times on this trip. Finally, the guy gave me twenty Pounds “out of his own pocket.” What a crock – knowing the way Africa works, that twenty pounds will go straight from the lockbox back into his pocket.

Once on the bus, the Egyptian government asked for my passport forty pounds to get back into the country. I had to pay taxes on both sides: 60 shekels on the Israeli side, 40 pounds on the Egyptian side – Ridiculous. That’s more taxes than I pay in the States.

Fifteen minutes into the ride, the Egyptian government asked for my passport again. Yes, I am American, yes I went to Israel, and yes, I have a visa. Now let me be!

After six hours, the bus arrived in Cairo at 10:30. I managed to find a bank that would exchange shekels for pounds, and got some additional pounds for dollars. I decided to walk into Islamic Cairo to try to find this theatre that holds Sufi dancing on Monday nights. Sadly, no one could guide me in the right direction, but walking through Islamic Cairo was still really cool. Surrounded by massive mosques, I walked through a quiet market.

I returned toward the hostel at which I had stayed for my first few days. But before getting there, I found my first shwarma. Shwarma is like a cheese steak sandwich, except without the cheese. Meat, tomatoes, sauce, bread. So good. I hit some internet real quick to let my parents I was back in Cairo safely, and then returned for more shwarma. It’s so good!
I must say that I am starting to feel a little traveled out. Constantly being on the move, city to city, country to country, has really taken it out of me. I haven’t been settled in a place on this trip for more than 2 nights. Many places, I only spent one night. I’m ready to stop moving and just settle down.

Has it been worth it? Absolutely. Seeing the mummies and the pyramids and the Sphinx and the Western Wall, it’s all worth it. But it doesn’t make it any less tiring. I’m thinking that I may just stay in Casablanca and not go into Rabat as planned.

Heading back to the room, I met two guys named James and Matt. Matt is a British guy who does off-shore surveying. He supplied me with a couple beers for the night, which was fantastic. James is a 28 year old who went to Georgia Tech. He’s planning on going to London School of Business. I am jealous of him as he has been in 36 countries, and will be going to China next month. The three of us spent most of the night talking.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: traveling isn’t just about the sites or the places. More than anything, traveling is about the people you meet. Whether they be locals or fellow travelers, everybody has a story – including yourself. Trading traveling stories with other travels is a great time. You just never know who you will meet and what you will learn.
Especially when traveling alone, when you think there is no one there with you, you have to talk to people. The truth is that there is always someone there with you.

Tuesday, November 21^st – Mosques and Markets

I slept in until 10 today, but I still feel tired. I really wanted to see the Museum of Islamic Art. It’s supposed to be one of the best collections of Middle Eastern art. I asked a policeman where the museum was and he said, “Museum is closed. Come back one year.” Yea, okay.

I was somewhat disappointed, but it wasn’t a big deal. I wandered around and made my way into Khan al-Khalili, the sprawling Cairo market. Everything is available in the market from food to clothes to tourist items like stuffed toy camels. I walked through the non-tourist section first – without a second look from anyone. Everyone thought I was Egyptian. People starting speaking Arabic to me. When I told them that I didn’t speak Arabic, they were appalled. “You look like an Egyptian.” “You have an Egyptian face.” “Is your family Egyptian.”

After walking through the larger section of the market, I hit the tourist section. I got a couple gifts for people and some really nice smelling Egyptian cologne for me.

For a good couple hours after, I walked through the rest of Islamic Cairo, checking out mosque after mosque. I couldn’t get over the beautiful architecture. While the mosques were cool, the better experience was walking through a smaller, definitely non-tourist market. The market is predominately filled with food, including live animals, which was interesting. I think the best part was seeing some donkeys pulling a cart. It was like time-traveling through a couple centuries.

I went back using my own sense of direction and instinct. I got some shwarma, which is starting to become a theme for this trip. I hit some quick internet to check my mail, and spent the rest of the night James, his friend Angelee, and a young woman named Beth from Washington, D.C. We got some small food, a lot of beer, and just enjoyed each other’s company.

Wednesday, November 22^nd – The “Royal” Treatment

At 1:30AM, Beth and I split a taxi to the airport. She had a 5AM flight to Italy, and mine left at 7:15 for Casablanca. I would have taken a taxi for myself, but my funds for the trip were down to 20 Pounds, not enough for taxi for myself.

I found a bench in the airport and slept for a couple hours until I could check in. I was given boarding passes for both flights – Cairo to Casablanca, Casablanca to Accra via Abidjan, Cote D’Ivoire. After a checking in, I slept for a couple more hours near the gate.

Boarding the plane was really nice. Besides watching a bright orange sun rise through the grey haze, I knew I was on my way back “home,” although the eleven hour lay-over was something that was not to be desired. Once again, I had a whole row to myself to myself. I slept for all but twenty minutes of the flight – much needed rest for sure.

I arrived in Morocco at 10:15, and as I thought, I had no desire to go anywhere. I went upstairs to the transit office, where they gave me a three-star hotel room at Atlas Airport Hotel, with free lunch and dinner. Thank you, Royal Air Maroc. I had a fantastic three course meal for lunch: a salad, some pasta with chicken, and a delicious slice of cake. From there, I went upstairs and switched off between watching CNN or BBC and napping. Before I knew it, it was just about time for dinner. I took a forty-five minute blazing hot shower – yes, forty-five minutes – and went downstairs for dinner. Once again, the food was delicious – chicken soup and beef with rice.

The hotel arranged a shuttle for all the late-night flights. A full bus of mostly French-speaking Africans loaded in and the long trip continued.

In the airport, I met a youngish man named Darren. Darren is from South Carolina, but has been living in Guinea for the last nine years. He gave me his information which I passed off to Duncan, who would have more interest than me. I bought myself a five-pack of Toblerone –quite possibly the most amazing candy ever – and got on board.

Once again, an easy flight with a whole row to myself. I actually managed to stay up for the food and then rested for the remaining time through Abidjan and then Accra.

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All in all, the last nine days have been amazing. It was a trip that was drenched in history. Yea, it had its bad side. Losing my ATM wasn’t cool, and not having my battery for Giza sucked. Mistakes and stupidity, they’re temporary. But memories are forever, and I got more than my fair share on this trip.

Once again, I just want to acknowledge my grandparents – Bubbie, Zeda Ben, Ann, and ZB – who gave me the great Hanukkah gift of the plane tickets. I am so grateful. Thank you so much!

LDG