EGYPT ON BUDGET
In the spirit of independent travel, we bought tickets from the bucket shop to travel to Cairo. The fifty pounds we saved by traveling with Air Bulgaria did not make up for the nervous exhaustion we suffered while en route to a six-hour layover in Sofia. A heavy smoker, for once I was able to resist the urge due to the presence of what smelled suspiciously like jet fuel. Being located at the rear of the aircraft, we could see a diverse array of passengers boarded with bags and sacks that exceeded any personal baggage allowance.
As we rolled down the runway, we were given our safety instructions. Horrified, my jaw dropped as I realized that unlike modern aircraft, in which each individual is provided with an oxygen mask, the illustrations showed a stewardess pushing a single cart down the aisle and calmly delivering a blast of air to each passenger in turn. He was well aware that the nature of accidents requiring oxygen, such as sudden decompression, would require that we all have air simultaneously. If the stewardess had any sense at all, she would make sure the pilot got the first call on the tram, and any sense of self-preservation would reserve the second call for herself. Blinded by images of all of us gasping for air as we plummeted through the atmosphere, I was forced to spend much more than my daily allowance on alcohol supplies.
Arriving in Cairo in the evening was accompanied by a briefing from my friend about the lowlife specialist tour operators we were likely to meet in the arrivals hall. Nothing could have prepared me for the scale of assault we received. Having narrowly avoided signing up for an all-points tour, we agree to a taxi ride to an undisclosed hotel simply to avoid the relentless barrage of deals.
Having a background in architecture, we both recognized the failure of local authorities to legislate even minimal fire precautions. In every hotel we asked for a low floor so we could jump if necessary, and once we chose a room on the fourth floor just because we both thought we could jump six feet to an adjoining building in case of fire. .
Intending to take the train to Luxor and Aswan as an adventurous alternative to the traditional riverboat method, we depart from our central hotel to head to the large Rameses II railway station. An evening stroll in the pleasant heat, noise and bustle of downtown Cairo is an experience not to be missed. Taking a short detour to visit a restaurant ranked in the middle of our Lonely Planet guide, we settled in for our first taste of Egyptian cuisine. My partner was in an adventurous mood and ordered the grilled pigeon to start. From my point of view I could see the waiter approaching with this delicacy. I could tell it was the grilled pigeon, as I could see its skinny little burnt head hanging over the side of the plate as it approached. We both sat in shock as we watched an ET as a whole corpse sprawled across the plate. Apparently, part of the process is running the bird over with a truck before semi-plucking and lightly roasting it. Personally, suffering from an immediate loss of appetite, I can give my friend his due, as he valiantly tried to eliminate the available meat and took all 30 seconds. The waiter passed the remains to some locals near the kitchen and we got to witness how a meal that is 90% feathers, bones and claws is tackled. You gather a handful and put it in your mouth. Without interrupting the conversation and using only your jaws, you deftly separate the meat from the bones and launch the debris-like missiles onto your plate.
Having traveled by first class train from Cairo to Aswan, the other classes were second class and no class at all. We arrived in Luxor after being relentlessly fed a kind of risotto with bright green chunks of meat. I can only hope it is due to the spices. We settled into a hotel and paid our ten Egyptian pounds to witness our first belly dance, which was well heralded throughout the area as exotic and spectacular. Having been raised with images of sensual beauties, we were very disappointed to be confronted by an elderly woman who was dressed from head to toe in a black cape. She showed little sign of life at all, let alone highly flexible body gyrations. It was never like that in the movies.
Our visit to the Valley of the Kings was marred by 24-hour food poisoning which, through a process of elimination, we blamed on my brushing my teeth with tap water. The only thing I had done that my friend hadn’t. Having found a miracle cure in a chemical, we tried to climb the ridge to the valley in the hottest part of the day and avoid the prospect of prolonged negotiations with a taxi driver for a ride. The true severity of my illness became apparent halfway up the hill and I returned to the roadside peddlers and gasped for water, leaving my friend to continue relentlessly. Having recovered my voice, I suggested to the water carrier that he was crazy for even trying to climb in the heat. He replied: “you are not angry, you came back”. They had been looking with some amusement at what it looked like. I made the cabbies day when I refused to get into a haggle and made it clear to them that I couldn’t care less how much they charged me.
He was still sick when the next day we traveled to Aswan and the dam. We picked up a friendly taxi driver who was knowledgeable about the impact of the dam. He expressed concern that the fish had lost its flavor as a result of swimming in a weaker current. The delicate balance of life that exists along the course of the river never extended beyond the floodplains of the river itself. Removed this, the salinity of the soil increases and the desert gets closer and closer.
The Russians who built the dam left behind huge buildings that are now used by various government departments. Our driver took me to one of these when my illness caught me off guard. Having been under pressure, I didn’t realize there was no toilet paper available. My lightning calculations of exchange rates and the value of the local currency left me with little choice. Less than five quid if you must know, and well worth it.
Staying at the hotel where Death on the Nile was written, we made plans for one last excursion to Abu Simbel. In my opinion, the most exciting of all Egyptian architectural relics. In the most fantastic restaurant in a converted mosque, our after-dinner entertainment was billed as a belly dancer. We were about to leave when the goddess appeared and we were finally at the cinema. 30 minutes of visual heaven left us in no doubt that there is a big difference between Egyptian and Nubian belly dancing.
Having arrived in Abu Simbel, for the first time we regret not being part of an organized tour. We began to flit between tour groups to satisfy our curiosity as to what all the pictures on the walls meant. Unfortunately there were no English speaking groups present and we had to translate for ourselves. Unsurprisingly, we know next to nothing about Abu Simbel. Our independent status resulted in a remarkable surprise. On our way out we noticed a small side door through which a couple of people had disappeared. Assuming we missed something, we took a look and were surprised to find ourselves on what appeared to be a James Bond set. It became apparent that the temple had been relocated to prevent flooding from the dam’s reservoir. A fact of which we were blissfully unaware. Therefore, it was a great surprise for us to find that the entire hillside on which the temple was built was completely fake. Too bad they have not shown as much care and deliberation in relocating the approximately 70,000 Nubian inhabitants of the valley.
Our patience with the whirlwind of being unquestionably rich visitors in an unquestionably poor country was almost at the end of its tether as we tried to arrange a flight back to Cairo. Both working on computers, we sympathized when the computers of the national carrier had broken down. A second visit that afternoon and a couple of hours in our second row shed little light on the situation. Just lots of blank screens to match the blank computers. A visit the next morning and another queue made my companion explode and generate a lot of heat but still no light. Had the world ended? Would we be stuck here until a new system could be purchased, commissioned and installed? Quite possibly it seemed. Egyptian culture seems to demand that they laugh and shrug in equal measure when faced with impatience. Taking a different tack, I took a long shot and having made the fourth visit I took the time to explore the possibilities. No, the system is not working yet, no, we don’t know when it will be fixed. Yes, the planes continue to fly to Cairo normally, although without passengers. Yes, the system is working in Cairo. Yes, we can call them and book from there. It seems that as a client you are expected to help solve your own problems in Egypt.
As usual after returning from a trip abroad, I am tempted to imitate the Pope and kiss the ground. God bless the relative sanity that still exists in good measure in the UK.
Alan currently has seven nationally recognized qualifications in outdoor skills and an impressive resume of outdoor experience.