Day3

Day 3: Early Morning call To Prayer!

My eyes were struggling to focus on the clock, which eventually became a little clearer.
Mickey Mouse had his small hand pointing at the number 4 and his big hand was pointing down towards the 6.

It sounded as though the morning rush hour traffic was already building up with the noise emanating from the road below, a quick search through my brain's data bank told me it was a Sunday morning.
What the fu*k was going on I thought, I was wide-awake! it's a Sunday morning, I'm on holiday, and it's only bloody 4.30 a.m. I forced myself back into sleep mode, but this only lasted about twenty minutes, the noise from the traffic was now being accompanied by the dulcet tones of the rather loud Muezzin.

The Muezzin is the local Muslim holy man, he was reciting verses from the Koran as a calling of the people to prayer from high up on his balcony in the minaret of the Mosque.
To make it worse, they had thought of everything, this was not a live calling, the Muezzin was probably still in his bed, this was a recorded heckle with the high pitched hiss you only get from a tape recording, and just in case there was anybody hard of hearing anywhere in Cairo the sermon was being relayed via a series of loudspeakers, which were dotted around on local buildings.

The Koran as most people know is to the Muslims what the Bible is to Christians, and as such is a very revered publication in whatever form it comes.
Loosely translated the word Koran means recitation, and boy do they recite from it!

The call to prayers went on for what seemed like hours, but I dare say was no more than half an hour, it was like a bad dream and I just had to lay there hoping it would end soon. It didn't end soon, but I was soon distracted, I could hear the familiar sound of a mosquito buzzing around close by, this made me dive for cover under the sheets, I couldn't see him, but I'm bloody sure he knew where he was and exactly where his next meal was laying.
The bedclothes over my head eventually helped block out the noise around me, and with me now being totally cocooned I finally drifted back off to sleep. My senses must have tuned into the noise, as the next thing I heard was Mickey Mouse sounding his 7.30 alarm call to wake me from my less than restful sleep.

Hot water in the shower was a refreshing thought as I entered the bathroom, what wasn't that refreshing was my reflection in the mirror. I looked like shit and had been bitten all over my forehead again, and was now taking on the appearance of a leper. My little invisible mossie friends had again been busy working overtime during the night.

As I climbed into the bath the mirror caught my reflection again, I now noticed I also had a few more bites on my arms and several across the top of my back. I was glad I only had one more night here, because if it was any longer there would be not a patch on my body untouched! I made a mental note not to sleep without my pants on.
After the shower I sat on the edge of the bed where I spent a good ten minutes as I applied some antiseptic cream to my bites, just thankful that I had remembered to pack some in the first place.

"Just a cup of tea please" I told the old man at breakfast, taking a seat in the old and musty smelling restaurant, which at least did not seem so bad this morning as there was two other people in this morning. One of these people was an Arabic man munching away quite contentedly on his finger roll and boiled egg, the other was a young white guy who was wearing the traditional backpacker uniform of drill trousers and scruffy tea shirt.
He was also wearing white sports socks with open toe sandals, I guessed he must be German, no one wears white sports socks in England anymore, at least not with sandals on. He was engrossed reading his lonely planet guide book, probably checking on what he had read previously, and wondering just what it was that had made him book into this dump.

I was going back to the Citadel this morning and was outside the hotel for eight thirty flagging down a black and white taxi, the driver wanted fifteen pounds, I offered him five!
A stand off for ten seconds with the driver coming down to seven was the end result. The driver had to make up his mind quickly as the traffic building up behind him was heavy and all blasting their horns in angry protest. Had he stayed there for much longer the whole of Cairo would have been in gridlock!
I figured as it was Sunday he deserved some extra payment for working weekends, not that I really think it matters what day of the week it was, I just couldn't be bothered to get into a long drawn out haggle over the fare.

The Citadel is to all intents and purposes a walled city within a city, situated just to the east of Cairo centre, near the Islamic quarter, this walled enclave is positioned on a high point overlooking the rest of the city. It was very easy to imagine in my own minds eye just what this place might have looked like just after its construction all those centuries ago. I imagine it would have been surrounded by a golden orange desert and palm trees dotted all over, with traders of every description passing through it's streets and bazaars riding camels, and pulling their donkeys laden with the finest wares.

The Citadel was home to numerous rulers of Egypt for over 700 hundred years; it was first constructed in 1176 by the then ruler Saladin. Originally he intended this as his home and well-fortified fortress, capable of withstanding the threat from the hordes of marauding Crusaders, who around this time were on the rampage in nearby Palestine.

Over the years the Citadel was expanded on by the Mamulaks and further enlarged during the Turkish Ottomans rule, with the more sumptuous palaces and harems being added by the latter. Even Napoleon found himself here when he took control of the Citadel during the era of French rule, while on an expedition to Egypt in 1798. After the French left it was taken over by the Ruler Mohammed Ali who made many more alterations to the lay out, he built the now famous Mosque named after him, in the style of the Turkish Mosques of that period. The Mosque soon became a major attraction to anybody visiting Egypt and now dominates the Cairo skyline; courtesy of it's elevated position.

During the second World war the British came along and used the Citadel as a barracks for a few years, then in 1952 it was handed over to the Egyptian army, who to this day still have a small presence here, although now it is primarily a tourist attraction. Also now housed here within the Citadel walls are both the military and police museums.

In the Citadel complex of today you will find three Mosques in total, a couple of palaces and another couple of museums, not to mention some other less interesting buildings. There are also a couple of platforms from which you can get some outstanding views of the surrounding area, including the city of the dead, the splendid other Mosques that protrude up and out on the Cairo skyline, and on a clear day the three main Pyramids are visible on the Gisa plateau, far off in the distance on the city outskirts.

The Citadel was not too busy this morning, apart from a tour bus of Spaniards there was very few other people about. Being the seasoned traveller that I am, I tagged along with the Spaniards while entering the complex. This makes any would be guide leave you alone as he assumes you are with the group and have your own guide to follow.

Obviously the assassinations of tourists in recent years have had a major impact on tourism to this country; so much so, that the government has saturated the entire major tourist sites with a specially formed tourist police force. While it's comforting to know you are being guarded against attack on the streets and in the historic sites, you can't help feeling that these policemen, most of whom look as though they are just out of the boy scouts, are a little on the inexperienced side.
The majority of them wearing thick ill-fitting black wool based uniforms that look like hand me downs look totally bored out of their skulls. Granted they may be armed with handguns and rifles, but I would not be too confident of them knowing how to use them properly.

Two of these so called tourist policemen were sat under a tree near the viewing balcony fast asleep, I was just a tourist, but was still able to shoot them with my camera, imagine had I been a terrorist with a gun!
I would also imagine that these people do not receive a great deal of money in terms of wages. Rather than be on the lookout for anything suspicious they seem to spend a great deal of time trying to extract money from tourists by acting as impromptu guides, or just simply offering a little unsolicited information as one particular young policeman did..

"Sir, that is Mohamed Ali Mosque".
"No shit Sherlock, I thought it was St Paul's Cathedral!"
"Ah?"
"Never mind, oh' and by the way, No thank you!"
"Ah?"
Well it made me smile, as for the poor young policeman he was totally perplexed!

I entered the main courtyard and took my boots off before entering the Mohammed Ali Mosque without having to fight off any would be guide, I had tucked myself in behind a small group of Germans who already had a guide, they were probably wondering why I was walking so close to them.

The man at the entrance just smiled and gestured for me to enter one of the most holy places in the Muslim world. Inside I left my newfound friends who were being shown around the tomb of Mohamed Ali and listening to what I can only assume was some interesting facts about the great man.
I walked around on my own, making my way to the interior inside the Mosque, which was quite dimly lit. From the high domed ceiling hung some very elaborate chandeliers affording some, but not enough much needed light to this building, which had surprisingly few windows to allow any natural light in. There were a few stained glass type windows that let what little sunlight that was entering form coloured patterns on the opposite walls.

I gave the Palaces a miss, preferring instead to walk around the outside taking in some of the spectacular views. I did however go into the Army museum that turned out to be a little on the disappointing side.
Here were housed the remains of armourments captured in the 6 day war with Israel, along with some old planes, tanks and cannons dating back through the centuries, nothing too spectacular, but it passed in a hour or so.

A couple of hours spent in the Citadel was just about right, the weather was pleasant without being unbearable at this time of the day. It was only just after 11 a.m. and I had no further plans for the day, so decided to walk around the same area as I had yesterday.

After twenty minutes or so, I found myself taking tea with a large group of men sat outside a textile store. Having seen me roam by they had invited me to sit and talk, mostly the conversation was about footballers, especially Michael Owen and David Beckham, both highly respected exponents of the game by these football-loving Arabs.
When asked my name and given the reply, they could not believe I was from England, insisting that I at least must have one Arabic parent.
In all honesty they probably did not really care where I was from, they just wanted to talk and make me feel welcome, which they more than accomplished as far as I was concerned. It was really nice to just sit there as a stranger in the middle of the whole thing, yet feel part of it.

Up to now I had taken plenty of pictures, but these were of monuments and such like, so I decided to walk into the bazaar area and take some candid real life shots.
I stood in a little square off the main thoroughfare trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, aiming to take some pics of the world going by. A rather weather beaten looking old man opposite who was selling tomato's from his barrow called me over; he was smiling broadly through his grey stubble beard. He wanted to let me to take his picture in return for one of my Marlboro cigarettes. I suspect that these cigs are a bit of a luxury item to the locals as they cost 6 Egyptian pounds a packet, compared to the local brands, which cost less than one pound for twenty.

I took two pictures and gave him two cigarettes, a good deal for both of us I felt. It would have been nice to stop there a little while longer and talk to the man a bit more, but by taking a more set-up type of picture I was beginning to attract a small crowd, who were all a little more than curious to see what was going on.
Just so long as I did not stop anywhere for too long I was fine, and no one really took that much notice, so I only stopped in any given spot long enough to fire off a quick shot or two, before moving on and looking for the next photo opportunity.

The Markets anywhere in the world are a great place to observe people from a distance, most are just too busy to even realise they are being watched. I stood for a couple of minutes watching two women plucking chickens, and judging by the speed and dexterity they showed, they had obviously plucked quite a few in their time. It was really fascinating to watch something you rarely, if ever, see at home.
Seeing sights like this make you wonder just how do they pluck chickens at home? All we ever see is nicely plucked cellophane wrapped bird sitting on the cold shelf in a supermarket. I can't imagine Bernard Matthews say how bootiful his chickens are if he had to do this job himself.

I don't know if it had anything to do with the time of year, it was now the end of November, but one thing I did notice was there were very few flies around, especially on all the uncovered meat hanging up outside the many butchers shops I passed.   You would have expected these areas to be swarming with them, not something to worry about I know, but odd none the less, and another thing was that I had not encountered a single mosquito, other than the thousand or so in my hotel room!

The area known as Coptic Cairo was somewhere I wanted to visit, and was thinking about for the afternoon as I sat on a low flowerbed wall opposite the great Ibn Tulun Mosque, just by the Zeinab cultural park, which incidentally was closed. Two young boys broke my train of thought when they greeted me "Hello".
This was about the only English word they knew, but at least it was one more word than I knew in Arabic! They were a pair of cheeky little ones who were waiting for a bus just where I was sat. Remembering that I had some sweets in my backpack I gave them some, which they were more than happy to receive.

About ten seconds later this Arabic man came running over and started shouting at the boys, and made them spit the sweets out. I thought at first he was telling them off because he thought they might be annoying me, and then I thought it might be because it was Ramadan and they should not be eating anything! It turned out to be neither of these things.

The man had now turned his ranting towards me, but I didn't have a clue what he was on about, I just assumed it was because it was Ramadan and tried to apologise.

As luck would have it, in the small crowd that had now gathered to look at what was going on was a taxi driver who spoke very good English. He spoke to the nutter who was still ranting to no one in particular and then turned to me. I asked what it was all about. "He wants to know what you gave the children to eat?" I told him they had been sweets and he relayed the message to the ranter.

"He wants to see you eat one of the sweets," said the taxi driver.
I did as I was asked and the nutter smiled, the anger drained from his body and then apologised through our taxi driver interpreter. "He thought you were trying to poison the children," said the driver.
How ridiculous I said, yes I know said the driver, but this man is not right in the head!

I was more than a little shocked by this whole incident and made a mental note to be very careful who I shared my sweets with in the future. In hindsight and to be fair to the man, on reflection I could see where he was coming from, even if it was a little bit over the top.

It was time to move on, so I headed back towards the eastern entrance to the city of the dead, and as was now the norm it was not too long before I had the company of a street tout.
He of course only wanted to be friendly and practice his English by conversing with me. He advised me not to go into the Dead city, as it was full of "not very nice people". I told him that I was not too worried about that, as I had already been there a couple of times, but he insisted that I should not go.

Instead he wanted to show me the Blue Mosque, so named because of its blue and grey marble tiling imported from Syria. I'm not sure if this place has any links with the famous blue Mosque in Turkey, and certainly looks nothing like it, as it is in such a poor state of repair.
In the end I never went in to view the Mosque, there was three men on the gate who wanted to charge me some ridiculous amount, obviously trying to make sure they all got something out of it.

Most of these smaller mosques are usually free to enter, this has come about since a visiting Muslim dignitary complained to the Egyptian government about them charging, but this does not stop the people working at them from trying it on with tourists. I don't mind giving them something, but they started off by asking for stupid sums of money and I just couldn't be bothered to haggle with them.

The street tout, who had brought me here, was a little upset with me for not wanting to go in, he was now not going to get his cut. Too bad I told him, you really should not try to rip everyone off; at this point he was now getting desperate, saying he could negotiate a better price. I just walked away, I wasn't going to negotiate with anybody; this was after all a holy place, not some market stall selling tacky souvenirs.

In most places in the world that I go it's nice not to be surrounded by other tourists, but at the moment I felt it would have been great to be able to blend into a crowd of baseball capped, camera swinging holidaymakers. Being the only tourist visible for miles, it was a sure fire bet that everybody and anybody would approach me with a service to offer. This I know is one of the prices you have to pay when you travel independently, and as a rule I feel I can cope with this quite well, but today I was not!

Coptic Cairo was to be my next destination, but feeling a little jaded and dejected I was unable to face anymore hassle, so I stuck my hand out, flagged a taxi and went back to my hotel.
This was more like the taxi ride you would expect at home with the driver being very chatty, but in a nice way and without any hidden agenda, unfortunately for him I was not in a very talkative mood.

I gave the driver ten pounds when I got out, he was saying something, which I didn't catch, but I doubt that he was saying I had overpaid him and was probably only looking to squeeze some more money out of me. Without stopping or even looking at the driver I got out and went straight into the hotel.

My room as I've said before was nothing special, but at least it was my own space away from anybody else, which was just what I needed at the time.

When you travel alone it does have it's advantages, such as, you can go where you like, do what you like, whenever you like and not have to worry about what other people want to do. But then on the other hand it can be nice to have someone other than guides and taxi drivers to talk to, if only to make light of some of the frustrating situations you can find yourself in.

One hour was enough time for me to refocus my thoughts and rest a little as I lay there on the bed, thinking about the day's events so far. The hot shower was refreshing and soon lifted my spirits, then a liberal application of cream on my bites and I was ready to face the world again.

The plan was to move on tomorrow, so I needed to get to Cairo's main railway station to book a ticket for my onward journey to Aswan. Having studied the guidebook I knew that Rameses station was easy enough to get to on the metro system, all I had to do was work out how the metro system worked.

Nasser metro station was only a short walk from my hotel, I knew this having passed the entrance several times on my walkabouts between the hotel and downtown.
The Cairo metro system is the only underground train service anywhere in the whole of Africa, and runs a distance of 43 Km North to South across the city along two routes. A lot of the stations are named after former Presidents of the country, and on this journey I would travel between two such stations. Starting at Naseer a former president I was to travel to Mubarak station, which is the name of the current President.

The first thing you notice is just how clean the metro stations are, the next is how easy they are to negotiate. Looking at the map I knew I would have to catch a train heading in the direction of Al-Marg, and would only have to travel two stops. The ticket office was not busy so it took no time to purchase a ticket to ride, which only cost 50 piastres (7p) and covered any journey of less than nine stops.
Once through the electronic gates it easy enough to find the platform where I only waited two minutes for the train to arrive, and clearly marked on the front was the destination Al-Marg.

The trains used on this metro system have all been built in France and shipped over; they are mostly standing room only with a few seats along each side of the carriage.
Something I thought was good about the metro system was that the first coach on every train is reserved for women only, not that Cairo is a dangerous city for women travellers, I just think it is a nice feature and one that makes women travellers feel a little more secure.
Surprisingly the train was not that busy, which was a nice introduction to travelling on the underground system, I was even able to take a seat for the short two-station journey.

Busy is a little bit of an understatement to describe the scene that greeted me when I emerged from the underground at Mubarak station. It was only a short walk across the junction to Rameses station, but one that would take quite a while to complete.
Every bit of open space was taken up by street vendors selling everything from cigarettes to handkerchiefs, and what must have been thousands of people were all jostling to see the goods on sale.
Competing with the street vendors were the men working the buses that departed from this area, going to points all over Egypt. These men were shouting out the name of their destination constantly, not just to attract would be travellers, but also to outdo the other men whose buses were competing on the same route.

These buses came in every size and shape, from the small 7 seater estate type vehicles to the large 52 seat bus, and of course they were of varying quality and age, some looked as though they would be lucky to make it out of the large station car park!
This did not deter anybody as they crammed into the buses, which did not depart until they could physically not get another single person on board. There was no such thing as a timetable, the bus left when the crew thought they could get no more fare paying passengers on board.
I stood for a while just watching the crowds coming and going, they all seemed to know what they wanted and where they were going, I didn't have a clue what was going on and had to stand back to try and make some sense of it all.

Scenes like this can be very entertaining in a perverse kind of way, you want to watch from the outside, but don't want to get involved in the middle of it all.
But get involved I would have to; as to get over to the Rameses station entrance meant having to walk through the mayhem. It was an experience that I can only describe as similar to being stood nose to nose on a rush hour underground train, you know you will get to your destination, but you also know it's going to be a slow and uncomfortable journey.

Entering the station the first thing I saw was a group of around thirty men, all of them on their knees praying, they were all on a specially laid out carpet in one corner paying homage to Mohammed. Again I had to stop and watch, not only because the whole scene was fascinating, but also because they were blocking the entrance to the tourist help desk where I wanted to get.

The guy at the tourist office was able to give me the times of the trains, but not a ticket, for this I would have to go to the main ticket office on platform 8, which was a lot easier said than done.
After about five minutes walking around the station like someone who was completely lost I found where I needed to be, and again everything went really smoothly. The trains for Aswan departed at 7 a.m, 9 p.m and 11 pm. I chose to travel the next morning on the 7.a.m train; I would have preferred to travel on a night train but could not face another day in Cairo just at the moment.

The ticket office clerk was a little surprised when I told him that I wanted a second class ticket rather than first. He said that the first class compartments were fully air-conditioned and meals would be provided. "No thank you I'll just have the second class", I didn't fancy having my meals on a train in a plush dining car and definitely did not want to sit in a cold air con coach all day, and it was not that hot to warrant it. Plus I felt that it would all be a little too sterile travelling in a coach full of what I assumed would be well off Arab businessmen and even more well off foreign tourists.

There were a lot of really dark skinned people milling around the station, all of them laden with huge amounts of luggage. I assumed, rightly or wrongly, they were Sudanese and waiting to catch trains back to the Sudan area some 900 miles from here.

Fighting my way through the crowds outside the station I made it back to the Mubarak metro station and caught a train to Sadat metro station. This station is situated right in the heart of downtown Cairo and less than half a kilometre from Nasser station where I had originally caught the train.
It was time to eat and I needed some fast food so headed straight for McDonalds, which thankfully was now open, but very few people were in there.
There are a few well-known fast food outlets such as KFC, Pizza Hut e.t.c situated around this part of town and just opposite the American University; all there I would imagine catering for students and tourists in the main.

In McDonalds you could see that the clientele were definitely the more middle class well of locals and student types, most of them in there purely as a social thing, rather than like me, starving hungry!
As I left the burger bar I was asked the time, in Egyptian of course and by the usual method with the man pointing at his wrist. "Have neither of you got a watch?" I replied.

"I'm sorry I thought you were Egyptian," said the man.

"Didn't your friend over there tell you I was not an Egyptian?"

"What friend are you talking about, I don't understand?"

"That little man over there in the shop doorway, the same one who asked me the same thing last night" I was talking about the little man with the wonky eye, I had seen him talking to this man while I sat looking out of the window while in McDonalds.
Little man now joined the conversation and unbelievably denied having ever spoken to me before! The conversation turned into an embarrassing joke with the little man finally coming to his senses and remembering our conversation the previous night. I was thinking to myself that maybe he tries that "have you got the time" routine on so many people, that he had genuinely forgotten me, but I don't think so, I think his denial was more out of embarrassment than anything else.

I advised them both they really should change their approach and try a new opening line, as a lot of tourists like me are very wise to this rather dated opening line they were using. We all laughed a bit more together and ended up slapping each other on the back and wishing each other well as we departed. Oh yeah, I also had to give them both a cigarette each.
They were happy they had got something out of me other than advice, and I was happy not to be slapping around some perfume shop or other.
I found a little place to send e-mail home just to let everyone know I was still alive, and what my intended movements would be.

It was just gone 8.30 p.m. when I got back to the hotel to turn in for the night, I had to be up at 5.30 a.m. in order to get back to Rameses station and catch the train to Aswan.
All I had to do now was pack the rucksack and spend another half an hour or so swatting bloody mosquitos! I'm sure that half the time I was only swatting fluff particles, as it was hard to distinguish anything in the dimly lit room.