Day 1: Arrival in Cairo They say you can see the Pyramids from the window of the plane as you approach the airport runway, well this wasn't going to be the case for me, as hard as I looked i couldn't see a bloody thing!, "the lying Bas@*~ds" I thought. All I could see were the bright lights of what is the biggest sprawling city in all of East Africa, a city which lit up the dark winter night sky as the plane made it's final approach into Cairo International airport. It was around 19.00 local time as the Air France Boeing 777 touched down on Egyptian soil, some 90 minutes late after my flight from London, via Paris, which was the cheapest way of making this trip. I say we were 90 minutes late, but can't really be that sure as I had managed to smash my watch into pieces while on the London underground that morning, but that's another story. I had decided a few weeks earlier that I would like to backpack around Egypt for a few days, and as I had a couple of weeks off work coming up, thought I would make a flying visit. In the time available I had decide that I would try to see and do as much as possible. I had set a limit of £500.00 to include the cost of airfare, accommodation, and other expenses such as food costs for the trip. First off I managed to purchase a return airfare on the Internet with Air France for £211.00, which I felt was very reasonable for a scheduled flight. The only down side was that it was not direct, and so meant having to fly from London to Paris, then change onto a connecting flight for Cairo. The connections were not that bad though, and only meant a one and a half-hour stopover at Charles DeGaul airport. Just mention the word backpacking and a lot of people squirm, but backpacking is not what the majority people think, it can be, but it's not always about using the cheapest means of travel and staying in fleapit accommodation. To me it's about being a free spirit, mobile and being prepared to travel around a fair bit in order to experience the whole thing. Package tours, which come in many forms can be both very cheap and very expensive, do give you an insight, but can be more than a little bit restrictive when trying to see the big picture, especially for me. All I want when travelling is to see and do as much as possible in the given time, so don't I really need, or want all the luxury pampering that some travellers demand. I must look a bit Gaelic, as the Stewardess smiling broadly spoke to me for a good few seconds in fluent French as I disembarked. I don't have a clue what she was saying, but thinking I'd cracked it I was nodding and saying oui and bonsai at the appropriate times. She must have been impressed, or bored because she never broke into English, Arabic or some other language at any time. Having read up a little on the process of passing through immigration at Cairo airport, I was expecting to be there for quite a while, but as it turned out this was not the case at all. My pre booked taxi driver was there in the arrivals hall waiting for me, proudly displaying his large hand written sign bearing my name. A bit pretentious maybe, and definitely not in the true spirit of backpacker traditions, but I thought it would save me the hassle I had expected to encounter from taxi and hotel touts just as soon as passing through immigration. I could easily have caught a bus the 23 km into Cairo city centre, for what only amounts to pennies, but this would have meant having to find my pre booked hotel from the bus station, which is great if you know where you are going, but I didn't have a bloody clue. The pre booked taxi was only to cost $5 U.S anyway, and as this was going to drop me right outside the door of my hotel, was going to be money well spent I thought. The driver came in useful straight away as I was standing in a long queue waiting to pay the visa entry fee, he asked me to give him the 15 American dollars and he would sort it out. He was only gone two minutes before he returned with the visa stamped inside my passport; we were out of the queue and on our way. Not being one to pass up an opportunity the driver had struck up a conversation with the young French guy who was stood next to me in the line at passport control. The outcome of this was that he would be sharing my taxi into the city, no big deal really, as it was a nine-seater minibus anyway. Mark was the name of the French guy; he was in Cairo on business working for some press agency or something like that. He spoke very little English and I speak no French, needless to say it was a very short conversation with neither of us up to much in the way of sign language. I had been expecting the taxi journey into Cairo to be a little on the hectic side, so was quite pleasantly surprised to find the roads were relatively traffic free and in good condition. The driver spoke to me in Arabic, obviously trying to suss out if I was really Arabic or English with a name like mine. I told him I spoke no Arabic, but I don't think he believed me, saying that I must be Arabic with a name like that? I was happy to play along with him, saying that I might speak a little Arabic, but preferred to converse in my native tongue of English. Having the surname of "Maher" can be help in Egypt because this is a common Arabic name, which when loosely translated actually means clever/intelligent. Now obviously had I really been born Arabic my name would have been something completely different! The Nile River runs virtually from one end of Egypt to the other, and on it's way it passes straight through the heart of Cairo and all the of the major towns. But I did not manage to see it on the journey in from the airport, although my taxi did run under it through a tunnel that reminded me very much of the Dartford tunnel in England. Twenty five minutes was all it took to travel the 25 km to my hotel in the Garden city district, just on the Nile and edge of downtown Cairo. In fact the hotel was called the Garden City house Hotel, which sounded ok and looked to be fairly nice from the pictures I had seen when booking it over the Internet. The Lonely Planet guide book gave this so called mid range hotel a semi favourable write up, quaintly Calling it "a little dusty", I quaintly called it a sh*t hole! Situated on the third floor of what appeared to be a semi derelict building that even had one of it's main glass doors missing, the building was drab and looked as though it had been abandoned for years. The hotel is accessed via some three flights of unlit stairs, or you could use a lift that must be at least 60 years old. The lift was one of those old types you now only see in movies, it had two wooden doors that had to be pulled shut before moving, and only had barely enough room for two people, all that was missing was a man in uniform to operate it. My room was situated up a further flight of unlit stairs from the reception on the third floor. The room I was given was average size, dimly lit and had a small bathroom attached, and the view from the balcony was great if you wanted to watch the flowing traffic below, the saving grace was a little nicer backdrop of the Nile itself a bit further back. On first impression I could quite clearly see the room looked a little tatty, but I thought it would be ok, and would certainly serve the purpose as I only intended to sleep in it, so it would have to do, as I didn't fancy looking around for anywhere else at this time of the night. It was only when I was starting to unpack my rucksack that I really began to take any notice of my surroundings. The first thing I noticed was the plastic bedside table lampshade was badly scorched and torn, while the old green plastic phone beside it was at least thirty years old and had probably never been used. Then as I was becoming more accustomed to the light the pink painted walls took my eye, especially all the small dark patches that turned out to be squashed mosquito's, which gave it a black and red pebble dash affect. A closer inspection revealed that some of these were quite recent squashings. Um! Interesting I thought. I spent the next half hour looking around the room for those mosquitos's that were still alive, just so that I could do my bit and add them to the pebble dash affect. It was them or me, as I went around like a demented lunatic in a swotting frenzy with the threadbare towel from the bathroom. After having totally exterminated all the mosquito's I could find and now feeling rather pleased with myself, I made sure all the windows were shut. I had a quick wash and brush up before I went on my first walk around the city. "Do you know where I might be able to buy a watch this time of night?" I asked the rather bored looking young man behind the reception desk. "Yes sure, just go out of the hotel and turn right, then right again and this will lead you down to Midan Tahrir (Liberation Square), there are many shops there" he replied grudgingly. "Ok thanks for your enthusiasm!", "Ah?" It was now just gone ten p.m as I set off on my first exploration of the mayhem that is downtown Cairo. As I walked the impressive Nile Hilton hotel was situated on the riverside on my left, and then the rather official looking Arab league building on my right, a little further down to the left I could see the Cairo museum less the 500 metres across the way. Busy is a little bit of an understatement to describe downtown Cairo at night, or anytime of the day for that matter, you really do take your life in your own hands trying to cross the roads. Cars don't stop for junctions, roundabouts, traffic lights regardless of the colour they are displaying, or for any of the many people trying to cross. The first thing you notice is that all the drivers seem to spend as much time as possible sounding their horns, which you might think is to warn they are coming, but this is really just to reinforce the message that they are not about to stop for you, anyone else or anything. About two thirds of all the vehicles on the roads seem to be old battered taxi's liveried in a distinctive black and white paintwork, and all of them zipping about at a frantic pace, and belching out as much pollution as possible from their rear ends. I think I would rather put up with the exhaust gases from a camel's rear end! Another thing to avoid is the donkey drawn carts which are being driven by robe clad men who seem to have all the time in the world, and are seemingly paying very little attention to the mayhem all around them. If I had been feeling a little tired before I set off for downtown, I was now wide awake and in a heightened state of alertness, as I gingerly navigated my way across the very busy main road towards the bright lights of the shops. After standing on the kerbs edge for about five minutes, I figured the best way to get across the road would be to stand behind some locals and move when they did. This seemed to be the best policy to adopt as I made it to the other side in one piece, albeit with my adrenalin levels having shot up a fair bit. It did not take too long before a young lad of about seventeen, or eighteen approached me, he opened the conversation with a complimentary remark about my allegedly "nice shirt". Ashrif was this young man's name, he inquired if I was looking for anywhere, or anything in particular and could he be of any assistance. I told him that I was trying to find a shop selling watches, "I know just the place," he told me. Now why did that not surprise me? It was obvious to me that Ashrif was a street hustler, even if he didn't think I knew he was, but I was prepared to go along with him as he spoke good English and I needed a watch. Known locally as the Khurateyya (sing. Kharty) these young men are very adept at picking up tourists with a warm welcoming greeting, in whatever language fits the bill. Most of them are quite fluent speakers in English, German, Spanish, Italian and even Russian. (Ashrif later told me that he could even speak Japanese quite well!) They tend to prey on tourists and will be instantly warm and friendly towards them in the hope of becoming their guide, who will take them to the best shops, restaurants and tourist sites e.t.c.. These people, I think, should not be instantly dismissed, as they can in fact be a wealth of useful information, it's just what price you may pay for it that you have to be wary of. If for example they take you to a shop they will have you believe they are going to get you the best price by negotiating for you in Arabic, but in reality they are colluding with the shopkeeper and bumping up the price to start with. Then negotiate the price down to what you think is a very reasonable discount, and one you are quite happy to pay. In reality they are making sure they negotiate a price that will see the shopkeeper make a healthy profit, and also secure a nice commission for themselves. This is all part of the game I don't mind playing and one that can be quite amusing as you play bluff and double bluff with these people, all the time pretending that you are being taken it by it all. I tend not to buy too much of anything in a new place for the first few days, preferring to try and get a grip on what the realistic price levels should be. To be fair to Ashrif he did take me straight to a shop that sold watches, and it was not too far off the beaten track down one of the side roads. I paid 30 Egyptian pounds, which is approx 4 English pounds for a nice enough looking watch, that according to the salesman was water resistant to 5 bar, that's great I said, maybe I'll take up scuba diving to test it out! If the truth were known I probably wouldn't risk wearing it in the shower. Ashrif told me that he thought this was a good price being offered to me, and that after his skilled negotiating I should be happy as I was getting a fair deal from the salesman. I don't know what the real price should have been, I was just happy to have a watch again; you don't realise how much you use them until you haven't got one. He was also at pains to point out that he was getting nothing for this, and was doing this only to help me out, and of course practice his English at the same time. He told me that he attended University where he studied languages, "would that be the University of Life?" I enquired a little cynically. "I have a family business just around the corner, would you like to come and have some tea with me?" Ashrif asked coyly. "Yes why not" I replied, knowing full well what was coming next. The family business was a perfume shop selling all the various sweet smelling essences extracted from different flowers, which were allegedly grown on the families small holding on the outskirts of Cairo. I tried to seem as interested as I could, while I sat there drinking tea and making small talk with the other man in the shop, who by the way claimed to be Ashrif's cousin, after Ashrif himself had said they were brothers? Bottle after bottle was produced for me to smell, with the salesman rubbing a small drop on various parts of my arms. Jasmine, rose, lotus blossom, lemon, camel shit, you name it they had a bottle of something that smelt just like it. And to be fair most of the perfumes were fragrantly pleasing. All I could think was this must be some small holding they had, because they had perfumes from hundreds of different types of flowers. I didn't buy anything, but promised that should I change my mind I would not hesitate to come back and buy from this shop, and not one on the hundreds of others that I was sure would be selling the exact same thing. The shopkeeper did his best to sell to me on the spot, he also warned me that other people would try to sell me similar stuff, but that I was to be careful, as they were not selling the genuine stuff. "Oh Really? People will actually try to cheat me, OK I'll bear that in mind" I told him trying my best to look surprised. Ashrif escorted me back to the main square where I was soon able to get my bearings in order to find my way back to the hotel. I told Ashrif that if he really wanted to earn some money from me, rather than commission from taking me to shops, I had a better proposition for him. At first he was a little put out that I had rumbled him as a Khurateyya (street hustler), but after I had explained to him that in most tourist places around the world I'd been to, there was someone just like him. And they, just like him, were only too willing and ready to help me in return for financial reward; he soon got the gist of what I was saying. All I basically wanted from him was to show me a little of the real Cairo, and act as my street wise guide for a few hours while I got a feel for the place, the people, and the prices. He willingly agreed to this, and as a gesture of goodwill on his part, and also a way of sealing our agreement took me straight to a local café that he used, here we had some tea and a smoke on a sheesha pipe, well at least he did. I had to give it a go, but only took a couple of puffs to try it out. Sheesha pipes are smoked widely by men in most Arabic countries, these pipes are used to smoke various fruit and herb flavoured tobaccos, which are burnt by small coals on a little dish at the top of the pipe, then filtered through water held at the bottom. The café was full of the dark skinned Arabic fellaheen (peasant) men wearing the traditional galabiyya (robes), who were playing games such as backgammon, cards, dominoes, or just sitting quietly smoking on their brightly coloured sheesha pipes, totally oblivious to the rest of the world. Fellaheen is the name given to the class of people mostly found in rural area's who work the land, scratching out a living at subsistence levels. Many of these poorer people move into the city, hoping to find work and make a better life for themselves and their families. It can be a hard life even in the city, chambermaids and such like only earn around 150 to 200 Egyptians pounds a month, this equates roughly to around 28 English pounds. This was a real working mans type of place with it's very old and well lived in wooden furniture, sawdust was scattered all over the tiled floor to soak up the spit, spilt tea and God knows whatever else was thrown on it. I left Ashrif in the café after agreeing to meet him outside the next morning around 8.30. "You will definitely come?" he inquired loudly as I walked away. "Yes I will definitely be here in the morning, good night". |