Egypt travelogue day 2

DAY 2: City of the Dead

I felt as though I had not slept at all when my Mickey Mouse travel alarm clock beeper went off at 07.30.
It must have been around 2.30 a.m. before I had finally fallen asleep, the noise of the street traffic was such that it was impossible to shut it out. I had also been aware of another noise, this was coming from a mosquito buzzing around in the room, which obviously knew what I would do to it, as I was unable to see it whenever I turned on the lights.

I had been right about the blood thirsty mosquito buzzing around in the night, my hands had been bitten a couple of times, and there were quite a few more bites on my arms and forehead. I reckoned that the mosquito would be quite easy to find now. Judging by the amount of times it had bitten me it would now be full of my blood and about the size of a tennis ball.
I had been trying to keep myself covered up in the night as best I could, but these bloody things will find any exposed bit of flesh. It really was no big deal, but then again these bites tend to irritate after a while, especially if you scratch them, and you know how hard it is to avoid scratching an itch.

There was no hot water coming out of the shower, which seemed to have a mind of it's own as the pipe swivelled and shuddered as the water pressure rose to the top. I stood under the cold shower cursing the management of the hotel and was thinking about what I would say to them just as soon as I went down to breakfast.   Ah! Maybe that's why the water was cold; I was now looking up at the big white cylindrical object on the opposite wall above the toilet. I reached over, flicked the boiler switch and a red light came on!
"Sh*t! If only I had taken a bit more notice last night I would not be standing here now freezing my bloody nuts off!" I cursed to myself.

Still there was one positive note this morning; my new watch was still working.

It was just after 8 when I went down for breakfast in the large lounge, cum dining room situated on the third floor. The room was a bit musty smelling, as was most of the hotel. The tables and chairs were old, the tablecloth soiled, the carpet was a little threadbare in places and the curtains had long since seen their best days. Apart from that it was just fine.
The old man who was acting as a waiter gestured for me to sit down at any table; there was no worry about having to sit at an already occupied one and make small talk with another guest. I was the only person there.

Breakfast consisted of two toasted finger rolls, a boiled egg, some cheese spread and a sachet of date jam.
I lost my appetite suddenly, but elected for some coffee to wake me up, another bad move, it had the consistency of diesel oil and didn't taste much better. Not that I'm some kind of connoisseur' on diesel oil, I've just got a vivid imagination!
I had seen a McDonalds downtown near the American University last night, so decided on making my way down there for one of their breakfasts. The sign on the door gave the opening hours as 12.00 to 24.00, what kind of a bloody McDonalds was that!

It was about 8.15, Ashrif was waiting impatiently outside the sheesha café for me; he smiled with relief as he greeted me, obviously happy that I had kept my word to meet up with him again.
We went back into the café for some black tea and talked a little about where we should go.
There were very few people in here this morning and the place looked as though a bomb had gone off with nobody bothering to clear it up. One rather scruffy looking man was stretched out asleep on a mattress of cardboard that was laid across a few chairs he had made into a makeshift bed.
"He works here," Ashrif said casually just as the man who served us woke the sleeper. If he was being woken because I was here, I don't know, but he really should not have bothered, as it wasn't upsetting me whatsoever.
He stirred, got up scratching his head and unmentionables, began to dress himself, then he put his bedding roll away and just carried on as normal, whatever that is.

Cairo is a very big city; in fact it's the biggest city in all of Africa and estimated to be home to over 16 million inhabitants.
All of these 16 million people living in every kind of dwelling imaginable, from the most basic disused cemetery tomb, or mud brick home to the super modern state of the art high rise flats, which stand all over the city hugging the skyline along with the many Mosques, and of course the pyramids on the edge of the city.
Cairo is Egypt in every sense of the word, the city houses roughly one third of the entire population.
But as far as Pharonic Egypt is concerned Cairo is not that significant, apart from the pyramids and the artefacts found in the Cairo museum there is not much else to do with this era.
None the less it does have other areas of interest and historical value that can be worth seeing.

I asked Ashrif to take me first to the Northern cemetery, a place known locally as the City of the Dead.
We left the café with Ashrif again paying the bill, the same as he had done the previous night; it only came to one Egyptian pound (14p).
The Northern cemetery area was once just a stretch of desert outside of the old city walls that was turned into a rather grand final resting place many centuries ago. It was here that the more well off inhabitants of Cairo were buried, in what can only be described as some very splendid looking tombs.
These mausoleums were lavishly built and even included large adjoining rooms and courtyards where relatives of the deceased would come prepared spend the day, and sometimes even the night when visiting.

With the growth of the population in the city over the period of time the poorer people took to squatting in these buildings, and it is known that this area has a history of squatters as far back as the 14th century.

Over the course of time this large burial area became home to many thousands of people, and is now a well established community, with all the amenities you would associate with a small town including electricity, gas and running water. There is even a police station and post office. Ashrif told me this area of Cairo was where you would expect find the more lowly and undesirable kind of person, and further went on to say that the area was now popular with criminals and drug takers.

We walked around the area for a little while; it was still early and quite with very few people around at all. The whole thing was kind of surreal when you think about it. Here was a population of living people happily sharing their homes with the dead, or should that be sharing the homes of the dead, or dead people having to share their final resting homes with the living?

Over the course of time this area has become well established with makeshift roads becoming more permanent and giving the impression of a well-laid out town. To see the people living here and going about their daily business you would not believe this was a cemetery, what with the washing strung out between tombstones hanging out to dry, and the various goats, donkeys and chickens roaming freely and also the young kids playing quite happily amongst the headstones and tombs.

From here we took a taxi to a local high point where we could look out over the city and get a good look at just how far the city of the dead stretched. The Pyramids were not visible from here though, the pollution levels in Cairo did not help as the sky was a bit muggy, which did not allow for a great view beyond a mile or so.

From the high point overlooking the city we caught a taxi out to Giza plateau situated just on the outskirts of Cairo, and the place where the famous Pyramids are situated.   I gave Ashrif 15 pounds to pay the taxi driver; he managed to negotiate the fare down to 12 after simply refusing to pay what the driver was asking for.
I stood back and watched as a rather amusing exchange of words that at one time looked to be getting a little heated took place, but ended up all smiles in the end. The driver then claimed to have no change in order to get the extra 3 pounds he wanted, but Ashrif was not having any of this, and simply went off and got some change from a local shop.

I dare say the driver was cursing the fact that the tourist had a guide who was not going to let him get ripped off, because I would have gladly given him what he had asked for, and probably have tipped him as well.

Ashrif said he would wait in one of the local café's here in the village of Nazlet-as-Samaan while I took a look around the pyramids, this was basically because he was not an officially recognised tourist guide, and as such did not want to upset those who were.   These guides were protective of their official status and proud of their knowledge regarding the pyramids. There were quite a few of these so called guides lined up and ready to pounce on me, just as soon as I made a move towards the ticket booth.

I was expecting this part of Giza to be a lot busier with touts and hawkers, but was pleasantly surprised to only be accosted two or three dozen times while walking the 100 metres or so from the taxi to the small shed like ticket booth, which was situated at the entrance to the site.
"No thank you I don't want to ride a horse, No thank you I don't want a guide", ""No thank you I don't want to ride a donkey or a camel" "No thank you I don't want a paperweight of the Pyramid made from the original stone. Jesus! I hadn't even got to the entrance and already these people were springing up from everywhere! They had obviously been hiding trying to give me a false sense of security!

It probably helped that a tour bus full of Germans had just pulled up and were now the main targets for all the entrepreneurs hanging about. They soon left me alone as I was already wagging my head and saying No, instead they went in search of the real money tourists who they stood more chance of a positive response from, I was after all only a scruffy looking backpacker.

After buying my entrance ticket I was approached by a man who claimed to be an official working at the site, he wanted to give me information at no cost, and just wanted to show me which way I should walk, and where to get an official government approved camel should I require one. He was at pains to explain he was not a tout, Oh yeah, right!

He pointed out a few things and explained that I should not pay anybody baksheesh for anything while I was here, as my ticket covered everything. He offered to take my picture with the Sphinx and pyramids as a backdrop behind me, and then he wished me a pleasant visit to the pyramids and held out his hand for his baksheesh!

I gave him a couple of pounds, as the information was worth that at least I thought, but I did have to smile at his cheek. It can be very hard to shake these people off; they really are persistent and wear you down very quickly.

From the entrance where I purchased my ticket it was really easy to see the three main pyramids and of course the Sphinx, but I wanted to get close up and take some pictures that would be a little more than the usual run of the mill snaps.

This was going to prove to be difficult as everyone of Arabian appearance was now approaching me with offers of donkey rides, camel rides, piggy back rides, trinkets, evening classes in Arabic, basket weaving courses for beginners, special souvenirs and personal guided tours. You only have to name it I was being offered it!

What really amuses me is that there will be a couple of these people watch you dismiss someone else's offer, then they step in one after the other to offer you the exact same thing! They probably expect you to buy eventually, because they know you become so worn down with it all that you will finally agree to anything just to get a little peace.

I fended them off as best I could, making my way up over a sand dune to the left and away from the actual direction of the pyramids. "Why are you going that way?" asked one pushy tout, "because I want to be on my own, and there is no one else over there!" I replied.
"As you like," he said, disgusted and looking at me as though I was some kind of alien.

I climbed the sand dune only to be confronted by another man, this time on a pony and offering to take me further out into the desert, from here he said I could have a great vantage point and be able to see nine pyramids.
"No thanks, these three will be enough for the time being," I said.
He looked at me with sad looking eyes as though I had just turned down the offer of a lifetime, and just kept right on talking all the time, still trying to persuade me that I should go with him.
In the end I had to just walk away because he was having real trouble understanding the word NO!
It has to be said that not everybody badgers you into submission, some actually do understand No, but they are very few and far between.

The Pyramids of Egypt, especially those at Giza have been a major tourist attraction for quite some considerable time, attracting such famous people as Napoleon back in 1798, Florence Nightingale took a look in the 1840's, Mark Twain in 1866 and Cecil Beaton in 1942. And I dare say every one of them was asked if they would like a camel ride by some real pushy camel owner, who was solely intent on making his fortune out of these enormous triangular lumps of limestone rock. Which it has to be said is the only true remaining wonder of the world from the original seven.

I had to smile when I read some quotes associated with various people regarding the pyramids in the Lonely Planet, one of them read "Very big, very old" camel owner 1999. Yeah, that just about sums them up I thought!

The Largest Pyramid here on the plateau is that of Khufu, which stood at a height of just over 145 metres when originally completed in 2570 BC. It is said that close on two and a half million limestone blocks, weighing around two and a half tons each, were used in the construction of this one Pyramid alone.
That's a lot of weight being held up by some grains of sand in the desert!
It can be hard to get your head around the fact that these pyramids were built well over four thousand years ago, and trying to put this into perspective, that is over two thousand years before the birth of Christ!

There is a cemetery just off to the left after entering this stretch of desert, I made my way towards it in the hope of some sanctuary from the hawkers, I doubted that the dead would try to sell me anything.
I had not quite made it all the way before being approached by three camel riding tourist police, all looking menacing from a distance armed with sub machine guns, but all of them were friendly and all of them looking for baksheesh.
They wanted to know which country I came from? I made out I did not understand their questions before finally making out that I understood a little by replying I was from Polska. I just hoped none of them could speak Polish! They rode off after a while; a little peeved they were not going to get any baksheesh!

Could you imagine the uproar if a London Bobby came up to a tourist in Trafalgar Square looking for money to simply speak to them! "You see that big column there with the man on the top with a patch over his eye and only one arm? well that's Nelsons column.. That will be ten pounds please…"
In all honesty I do know and fully understand that most of these people are poorly paid, and that unfortunately is a way of life, but you really don't expect to be hassled by policemen for money.

The cemetery was a nice and peaceful place from which to observe the Pyramids and take some pictures from a safe distance, it even allowed me to get some unusual pictures that you would not normally see of the pyramids.
The solitude lasted less than ten minutes as another policeman had spotted me; this one was on foot and a good bit older than the three desert cowboys who had been on the camels. He came over to me and tried to show me the way out, obviously thinking I was lost.
I told him I was not lost, and was simply looking around the area out of interest. He looked at me a bit strangely and said, "Oh, I see OK" and then pointed to the way out for when I was finished. Smiling he then held out his hand wanting his baksheesh payment for giving me information I didn't need, nor had I requested…. A pound seemed to do the trick as he walked away quite happy and waving back all smiles and still pointing the way out to me as he went.

There were a couple of grave diggers working near by who surprisingly did not even acknowledge my presence, I thought I might at least have been offered a guided tour of a six foot by three foot hole in the ground.

I decided to walk up the hill towards the main pyramid, and again it was not too long before a camel owner was offering to take me up there on his humpback transporter. "No thanks", I told him, "I would rather walk as I want to take some pictures".

"You can take your pictures from up here on the camel", he insisted.

"No thank you, I'll just keep walking" was my reply.

"OK you sit on the camel and have your picture taken" was his next retort.

And on it went, with me constantly telling him no thanks and him following me all the time as I walked.
It can be quite intimidating having a camel breathing down your neck, so I finally gave in and agreed to have a picture with the camel and pyramid as a background, just so as to get rid of him.
After the picture I went to give him a couple of pounds, he shook his head and requested I give him 20 pounds, finally losing it a little I told him to fu*k off and leave me alone!
A little argument then ensued, but it soon ended because I just walked off, with both him and the spitting camel following close behind, he was shouting what I can only assume was abuse at me.
I made my way over to a policeman and asked that he have a word with the camel driver, I thought that by doing this he would leave me alone. I was getting a little bit wound up with him by now, and was ready to pull him off his camel and kick seven bells of sh*t out of him if he didn't leave me alone.

The policeman did not seem that interested in my plea, but it had the desired effect on the camel driver who seeing me speak to him rode off shaking his head as though I had just knocked him for his well-deserved money. I don't think so some how!

I'm glad I never gave him any money at all now, because the pictures he took were all blurred and useless anyway. He was just trying it on by showing he was not happy with what I was willing to give him, and so in the end got what he deserved, absolutely nothing!

This whole episode really pissed me off, I should have just ignored him completely, he would have soon got the message and surely left me alone after a while. You think you are being polite by responding to their questions, and they in turn think that as soon as they have you talking, they are half way there.

I made my way back to meet Ashrif, upset with myself for letting the camel rider get to me, and even more upset with him for spoiling this trip to the pyramids that I had been so looking forward to. I really regret that I only got to see them from a distance, as I had wanted to walk right up to them and stand at the base.

I should never have let that episode get to me, and it is something that would not normally have bothered me. Maybe I was tired and a little bit ratty from lack of sleep the previous night, or maybe it was the one hundredth "No Thank you" that very nearly got the camel drivers back broken!

I found Ashrif hanging out with a few other lads, who I guessed were impromptu guides like him. We hailed a taxi and headed back into central Cairo, I needed a beer and something to eat. Ashrif suggested a restaurant called Felfela, which I already knew about having read a good report about it in the Lonely Planet guidebook.

You choose a meal for the both of us I said to Ashrif once inside the restaurant, he was in his element here and raved about this place, which I guess he didn't get to eat in that often. He looked up and down the menu for a while asked me a couple of questions and then ordered a few dishes that he thought I would like.

The meal was good if a little on the expensive side by Egyptian standards, but I did not really mind and gladly paid the bill of 60 Egyptian pounds (£8.50). After the meal Ashram enquired where I would like to go next? I told him that I was going back to the hotel for a rest and a shower, so would not need him to stay with me.

We arranged to meet up again that evening when I would be able to tell him what; if anything I wanted to do the next day.

Back at the hotel I was able to take a nice hot shower after having left the boiler on continuously since going out that morning. Feeling refreshed I lay down on the bed and rested for the best part of an hour, I was keeping one eye open, on the lookout for hungry mosquito's.
I had a quick read of the guide book before deciding to make my way to the Citadel situated in the old part of Cairo for the afternoon.
It was only a couple of kilometres to the Citadel from my hotel and I was going to walk, but decided to try out my bargaining skills on a taxi driver without having Ashrif there to back me up. The first one that pulled up did not want to take me there for whatever reason, he was shaking his head and saying something that I couldn't understand, he eventually drove off, but within seconds another willing driver had pulled up.

I told the driver where I wanted to go and asked him how much? he wanted seven pounds, so I knew it must be less than that and offered him four, he wasn't happy, but took me all the same.

Stuck in traffic on the way I witnessed one of the most bizarre things I've ever seen.
In Cairo everybody seems to drive as though there life depends on it, as I've explained before, so I was keeping my wits about me as we manoeuvred through the traffic, when I noticed a taxi that had pulled up behind us.
I had just turned my head to look at this taxi when a bus ran into the back of it. The driver of the taxi who was not hurt in the small shunt jumped out screaming, he ran up to the bus windscreen waving his arms like some kind of demented orchestra leader and struck it with both his hands at the same time.
The whole of the windscreen, which must of measured about six feet by three feet, just disintegrated leaving the bus totally glassless at the front.

The Driver of the bus seemed to be in total shock as he sat at the wheel and stared blankly at the taxi driver, who was now ranting and raving even more loudly with steady streams of blood pouring from both his hands! Strange people? I thought as we drove off!

I was right, it was not that far to the Citadel, but I still would not have liked to walk it.
I gave the driver five pounds and he smiled indicating he was happy. I stood there speechless for a while, thinking to myself had it really been worth it in the first place, haggling over what was only a couple of pounds (28p).

I shook my head to bring me out of my trance like state, still thinking to myself how mean I was being. But at the same time I also felt a little smug at getting what I considered a fair price out of the taxi driver, it was just a principle thing, I don't like being taken advantage off just because I'm a tourist.

I soon realised what the first taxi driver had been trying to tell me when I had asked to be taken to the Citadel. He had been trying to tell me it was shut!

The guards told me that it shut at two today, this because it was Saturday and also something to do with it being Ramadan. For one month of the year Muslims practice Ramadan, which means they fast from sunrise to sunset, no food, no water, no smoking, no anything. And I think I'm hard done by as a Catholic, by not eating meat on a Friday!

Oh well, I could always come back tomorrow, and at least I was now in the right part of Cairo for looking around the older quarter of the city known as Islamic Cairo. In this area is where you will find some of the most impressive Mosques anywhere in the Arabic world, which is great if you are into this kind of thing, I'm not really, but you still have to marvel at these most elaborate pieces of architecture.

I walked around the outer perimeter of the Citadel stopping at a little roadside kiosk to buy some bottled water. The old man and woman who ran this little place were very friendly and invited me to sit and drink my water on a chair in the shade beside them. We had a conversation of sorts that lasted about ten minutes, with the old couple laughing hysterically all the time as I was trying to explain where I was from, and I in turn laughed at them trying to explain to me about the area we were in. At least that's what I think they were saying to me, as the old man kept pointing at the different Mosques and buildings that could be seen all around us.

With some fluid back inside my body I kept walking and ended up in the area known as Midan Salah ad Din, here was a big junction from where you could just stand on the sidewalk and take in all the surrounding Mosques, and there's a few of them, seven in all within a distance of approx 500 metres.

One of the grandest of all these Mosques is that known as the Madrassa of Sultan Hassan, built in the mid fourteenth century at the time of the Mamluk era. History shows that during Napoleons time in Egypt his soldiers shelled this Mosque from their high position in the Citadel above, this occurred when they were trying to quell an Egyptian uprising against the French occupation.

I stood there on the corner of Midan Salah and took in the scene for a few minutes; I took a few pictures, and then moved off quickly into the side streets to avoid the attention of touts and hawkers, and to further explore this Islamic quarter.

The back streets of the Islamic quarter was a nice place to roam around with nobody hassling me, plenty of people smiled and some even stopped to say hello, and refreshingly none of them were trying to sell me anything.

The back streets are where I always try to explore wherever I go, as this is where the real way of life can be found. Here the people were dressed in a style more traditionally associated with Arab countries, with the men in long robes and sandals, the women in their black dress from head to toe.
The whole place takes on an image similar to the one you had in your minds eye, and the giant hoardings you see in the main locations advertising all the well known consumer brands are replaced by the more traditional local trade signs.

The general hustle and bustle of everyday life was going on all about me, and for the majority of the time at least, I was just another face in a sea of people who were all going about their own daily way of life. In the market streets were traders of every description, selling every kind of fresh fruit and vegetable you can imagine, from carts that were being pulled by small donkeys no bigger than a large dog.

Around me were a couple of Butchers shops selling freshly cut meat, another man was selling pigs trotters from a brightly coloured hand cart, a small group of women were plucking away furiously at freshly slaughtered chickens that looked a bit scrawny without their feathers. These chickens were being plucked to order, with no cold store to put them in, every one of them was slaughtered only when paid for.

A little further along the street ironmongers were displaying large arrays of pots and pans next to stalls selling sheesha pipes and all the paraphernalia that goes with it.   The smell from the various spice shops, mixed with all the other smells was sometimes intoxicating, but never in a foul way. The aroma of peppers mingled in the air with that freshly baked bread and chickens roasting on open spits.
I stopped at one small bakery outlet and bought myself some fig biscuits, which I ate quite happily as I roamed around.

Everywhere I looked people were selling something, and the most common of these things was freshly baked bread, which I must say looked very inviting. The bread which forms part of the staple diet at every meal was being sold everywhere, and by vendors as young as five or six years old, these bread stations as I called them were located at roughly 50 metre intervals along the roads.

I passed a Bakers shop that was cooking this bread in a large kiln visible from an open doorway, inside were three young men in only their vests and shorts working furiously to keep up with the demand.   The owner seeing me looking asked me to come in and see for myself just how it was done.
He was quite happy for me to take some pictures and did not want to sell me anything.
He was simply being friendly, which really served to reinforce just how nice most people are in this country, it's definitely only the few that hang around tourist spots that give most people the wrong impression.

I walked for the best part of a couple of hours before ending back up in the Midan Salah square area, where it was not too long before the touts were on my tail again. A taxi driver pulled up; he spoke good English and asked if he could take me anywhere? I needed to get back to the Garden city area eventually, but did not want to go back to the hotel just yet as there was a couple of hours of daylight left in which to further discover the city.

Hesham was the name of this driver and he agreed to give me a little tour in his old beaten up black and white Peugeot taxi for 20 pounds. He showed me his book of hand written remarks from other tourist, all giving good accounts on his ability to show you around, without trying to rip you off. This of course is nothing new, many taxi drivers and touts around the world have similar testaments to their trustworthyness and guiding skills, and I guess it's the equivalent of a mobile guest book.

We toured the Islamic quarter with Hesham pointing out places of interest, and then went into the Northern cemetery area to visit the Mosque of Qaitbey.
Built in the era of Sultan Qaitbey who ruled for twenty-eight years and was the last Mamluk ruler in Egypt, this Mosque is not on the main tourist itinery and as such not that often visited by foreigners, although it is listed in a few of the better guide books as a place of interest.

It was nice to be able to walk around the Mosque in peace; Hesham was knowledgeable about the Mosque and did not try to over elaborate on his explanations, just giving enough information to suffice.
A couple of pounds baksheesh to the Mosque's guardian ensured that we were able to climb the minaret and take in the panoramic view of the surrounding area, this was also a great place to take in the layout of the city of the dead. Hesham and I spoke a little about the people and culture that allowed this sacred place to become, what is now to all intents and purposes another well-established suburb of Cairo.

As far as the conversation went, it was just small talk and nothing too political, just my general observations, and Heshams explanations. I can remember at one stage saying that I felt it was a little sacrilegious that these people had taken over the tombs of the dead, "where else can they live" replied hesham, pointing towards the desert and shrugging his shoulders. Yeah, good point I said!

The interior of this Mosque houses two sacred stones, that according to legend bear the footprints of the prophet, but from what they looked like to me, they could just as easily have been the prints left by a Murphy's labourer wearing size ten wellies in wet cement.   The ceiling of the dome is carved in the most exquisite star and floral pattern, and is further complimented by the stain glass effect windows, that gave an amazing, almost disco lighting appearance as the late afternoon sun shone through.

This place was quite an important religious landmark for Egyptian Muslims, so much so that a picture of the Mosque can be found on the current Egyptian pound note.

Hesham took me next to the high point I had visited that morning, we were going in the hope of catching a stunning sunset view over Cairo. Again I was to be disappointed, the cloud was doing it's best to block out the skyline against the half-obscured setting sun, that when not obscured was glowing as bright an orange colour you are ever likely to see. It was not that great an evening for sunset pictures, so out of boredom I tried to take some arty type pictures of a horse statue. A sure sign of boredom when you try to make art out of somebody else's art!

I took some tea in a very posh looking restaurant that had a large terrace from which to view the city below, it was obviously frequented by the more well off residents of Cairo, who supposedly lived in this elevated part of town. Here was a peaceful haven, just a couple of kilometres up a hill away from the mayhem of the city centre. Hesham did not take any tea with me; he was still fasting for Ramadan and said that he would be eating with his brother that evening, just as soon as it got dark. I think he was trying to indicate to me that the taxi ride was coming to an end; I took the hint and asked the waiter for my bill.

The cup of tea cost me 5 pounds! The real cost was a rather expensive 3.50, but the waiter had no change, I believed him, I was after all the only person there, and knew they had just opened especially for me when Hesham had knocked on the door on our arrival!

When Hesham dropped me back at my hotel he gave me his mobile telephone number, just in case I needed his services again. He had earlier mentioned that he would give me a full day tour of Cairo and it's surrounding points of interest for 100 pounds.   At the time I had told him that I might take him up on the offer the following week when I returned to Cairo.
"God willing" was his reply to that.

To me Hesham was one of the more astute hustlers, he knew how to work his way into your affections without going over the top and driving you mad, you felt as though you could trust him, and as such were inclined to treat him as being a fair and honest man. He had even turned off his cassette player, which was blasting out verses from the Koran when I got in, I told him that this did not bother me as all of the other taxi's I'd been in so far had been playing the same thing loud and proud.

Although a little hard to regulate, I was able to get the water flowing at a reasonable temperature in order to have a refreshing shower and wash the days grime out. Cairo is a very dusty city, I suppose it's due to the place being surrounded by desert, so a shower is definitely a must after a days sightseeing.

I had arranged to meet Ashrif around 8 p.m. as I was going to purchase some duty free goods for him from the foreigner only shop. It is possible for tourists to buy duty free items within the city, just so long as you purchase them within two days of arrival in the country. This was a nice little way for Ashrif to make some extra money; he would make arrangements with his friend to buy whatever they felt they could sell at a profit. This turned out to be Johnny Walker red label whiskey and imported beer and cigarettes, all of these things not being available to the local Islamic community.

Everybody is aware of this scam, the people who work in the duty free shop know exactly what is going on, but they don't care just so long as they have a tourist's passport number and the right paperwork to stamp, which would prove the goods, went to a foreigner.
Not going to use this quota myself, I had no objection to Ashrif making some money for himself. When he originally asked me to do this for him I thought at least he was being honest about the whole thing, and as he would be financing it for himself, all it would cost me was a little time.

Admittedly I was a bit wary of doing it, thinking I might have to produce some kind of paperwork when leaving Egypt, but Ashrif assured me there would be no problems, and I reasoned that I would only have to say I'd drunk the alcohol and smoked the cigarettes anyway.

Ashrif made a phone call after we met up; he was ringing his friend who turned up in a taxi to take us to the duty free shop. I instantly took a dislike to this man who was only about five foot six inches tall and a bit overweight, he was dressed in very expensive clothes and only spoke in Arabic to Ashrif. Maybe he spoke no English, but he could have at least acknowledged me in whatever greeting he chose. It was obvious he was the Mr Big in this operation and was well versed in what he was doing, constantly on his mobile phone, speaking to various people at 100 m.p.h like a wheeler-dealer spiv on acid.

Had I known this was the kind of set up to begin with, I probably would not have agreed to do it, but I'd given my word to Ashrif, so I went ahead with the deal.

I felt sorry for Ashrif really, thinking he was only going to get some of the profit for roping in a gullible tourist to line the pockets of the spiv.
At least Mr Big paid the taxi fare there and back, I was waiting for him to indicate that I should pay the fare and had my two simple English words just waiting to spill from my lips!

Back in Midan Tahir Ashrif asked what I would like to do? I told him that I was going to get something to eat at the local fast food outlet, then I was going to walk around the area on my own, so I would not now need his assistance any more. I gave him fifty Egyptian pounds and wished him well, repeatedly having to tell him I would now be fine on my own. I also told him I would keep my eye open for him when I returned to Cairo the following week.

You think you have got a handle on things, but learn something new all the time. I thought I was helping out this lad by going to the duty free shop, but all I'd done was line the pockets of some smarmy looking spiv. I dare say that Ashrif would get his cut from the proceeds, but nothing like what he would have done had he be doing the deal on his own.
He probably was a little naïve and didn't have the contacts to get rid of the stuff once he had it, so probably did need this spiv in on the deal, who knows? What I do know was I was the one being a bit naïve, the whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth, so I was a little pissed off.

What didn't leave a bad taste in my mouth were the chicken burgers with taramasalata sauce I had for my evening meal, they tasted great (I had 2), and were really very reasonable.

"Wot time is please?" asked the man as I crossed the road. I told him. He replied "I'm sorry I thought you were Egyptian", "Then why did you ask me in English?" I questioned. A little stutter, and then the reply "Many of Egyptians can speak English".   "Yes I noticed that" I laughed
He was just another tout using an age old method for opening a conversation. This middle-aged man was a local shopkeeper who sold, wait for it! yes that's right, perfume extracted from plants grown on his families own plot of land…Zzzzzzzz

I was feeling in a fairly good mood now after having eaten and taken a short walk, so I went along with his little charade. He was never going to win an Oscar, but was doing quite well presenting me with the same old dialogue I'd heard the previous day from Ashrif's Brother, cousin, salesman. I swear there must be a school somewhere that these salesmen go to learn these tacky sales pitches.

Anyway the long and short of it was that he was a nice enough man, we drank some tea and talked for a while before I gave in and bought some perfume! I ended up buying four small bottles for forty pounds, which was about the going rate I thought. Obviously the salesman thought different, claiming this was such a bargain and that he was making no profit at all, he was only selling to me because I was a nice man.

"I can assure you that no one sells you anything without making a profit, no matter how nice a man you are!" I told him.
He laughed, probably all the way to the bank.

It could have been no more than five minutes after leaving the shop I was approached by a little man of about five feet tall; he had a large round head with one eye that looked to be misaligned on his face. You know you should try not to look at this disfigurement, but it's like a spell and you find yourself drawn to it, it's even harder when you have to look down to make eye contact. I felt as though I was staring at a cyborg or one of those characters from Star trek.
He asked if I had the time, speaking in Arabic but pointing at his wrist as he did so, just to get the message across.   "Don't tell, let me guess, you thought I was Egyptian, right?" I replied.

He looked at me a little funny, or maybe that was his normal look, it was hard to tell with that eye being so prominent.

""Where's your shop then" I carried on to say.

"Ah? How do you know I've got a shop?" he said, finally coming to grips with the situation.

"Look it's like this, I don't want to look at your shop, visit your brothers shop, or want to change any dollars, so could you please just leave me alone"

"Ok my friend, don't get angry with me"

Forcing myself into a smile I told him "I'm not your friend, I've never even met you before, and I'm not angry with you, OK!"

"Ok you not angry, maybe you like to look at my shop, it's just around the corner, please follow me!"

"NO! thank you, I don't want to follow you and I don't want to look at any shops just at the moment"

"Maybe you look later eh? you promise me yes?"

"Do you not understand me when I say no?"

"No, yes Ok, but you promise to look later, eh?"

"I don't want to make you any promises" I replied, because I was sure I would be bound to bump into this man again.

"Ok my friend, no look at my shop now, so maybe you can give me a cigarette please" he replied.

I gave him a cigarette and walked away laughing my head off, I just hope he didn't think I was laughing at his eye, he was just such a funny little man without trying to be.

It was now getting late and time to turn in for the night; I made my way back to the hotel where I spent half an hour swatting mosquitos. The room finally looked free from any of these blood-sucking creatures, but I was taking no chances, I covered myself from head to toe with the sheets before finally shutting my eyes.