The best of Egypt: Cairo

We touch down in Cairo some 7189 km north of our starting point, Cape Town. It wasn’t a long flight from Nairobi, but it’s evident that there is a huge cultural difference. The first indicator was a 5.30 breakfast aboard Egypt Air. I couldn’t figure it out in my state of sleep deprivation and besides I was still full from getting our money’s worth at Carnivore. It is only when our hotels shuttle driver reminds us that Ramadan has started so between sunrise and sunset Muslims will be fasting. We travel through the Garden suburbs surrounding President Mubarak’s home and our driver gives instructions to look out to our right to see his home. He does so two blocks before we pass as he suggests it is not a good idea to point out the house with all the security. What we could see of the Presidents abode was nothing spectacular but there were hundreds of men in white military suits with black berets lining each side of the street, 15 metres apart. Our driver suggests that the President must be driving into town as the military guard stretches over 6 kilometres. We can even spot the secret service in their cliché suits and aviator sunglasses manning the tallest buildings.

Checking into our hotel we are surprised to be presented with the passport details of the tour group: we have two Finns, four Americans, two Canadian couples and an Aussie couple. Before the heat of the day kicks in Jac and I grab a taxi to the Cairo Bazaar, supposedly famous for its perfumes and spices. Amongst the buildings, the dusty stores seem to be selling more plastic toys and pocket sized packets of tissues than anything else. One plumb sweaty local notices us wandering looking for something for lunch and offers to take us on a tour – ‘for free, I want nothing’. We protest but evidentially give up and follow him through lanes and gaps between stores that we won’t have noticed. We walk through tunnels that are lined with men eyeing us off and we need to make our excuses before Jac throws up from the overpowering aroma of too many spices. Our unexpected tour guide is taken aback as we decline his ‘hospitality’ when the tour conveniently ends at his perfume store.

On returning our security lacking receptionist, without hesitation hands over Vince’s room number and we go catch up with him. After nearly 24 hours in transit Vince still finds the energy to fill us in on the latest from Oz before we head off and find some fantastically fresh bread and baba ganoush.

We meet the tour group and our guide Mamdoh, who seems a little disappointed at receptions lacking security, but only a little. We start to get a sense of the ebbs and flows of the country as Mamdoh suggests we need not hand over our insurance details and makes clear, eyeing off Harrish, Devin and I as he does, that as it is Ramadan it may be difficult to find restaurants serving meals during the day and not to count on finding any serving alcohol. With his trademark grin Mamdoh suggests he has some contacts and that we won’t go thirsty. Most join the optional dinner and dine on kofta, kebabs, dips, yoghurts, spiced skewers of meat and falafels, a main stay for the rest of the trip. Back to the hotel bar Vince and I have a few of the most expensive beers I came across in Africa – but they were cold and we were starting the new leg of our travels.

We enjoy our first bed for two weeks and have a relatively late start compared to our overland trip. We lump around the Egyptian museum where Mamdoh had studied and so we have a highlights tour accompanied by anecdotes. My favourite story is how a donkey discovered the riches of Tutankhamen’s tomb that thousands of years of tomb raiders could not. The heat in the old Egyptian Museum is intense and our American friend Natalie suffers from heat stroke that gets worse later in the bus.

Later in the afternoon we get our first tick on the Egypt-must-see list: a visit the Pyramids of Giza. Overlooking the outskirts of Cairo the Pyramids are awe-inspiring. Having stood the test of some 4500 years they are a stark reminder of just how transient our lives are; well that’s how they made me feel. I could have spent the day walking around and taking in the views but in was over 40 degrees in the shade and the Pyramids were built not to cast a shadow during most of the day. Jac shells out to climb inside the Great Pyramid and Vince and I make do with a visit to a smaller one. We are warned that no camera’s are to be taken inside the pyramids but the guard half reclined at the entrance to our pyramid waves us both in as we are about to take turns in holding the camera’s outside. We descend about 50m to a strake colourless cavity bar a grave sized hole cut into the floor. We take no photos and I decide to see what the view is like as a dead pharaoh lying in the cut out hole. We decline the guards offer to pay for the free entrance to the pyramid and wander around to catch up with the others. We find that we didn’t miss much; just a bigger version of what we saw and make a beeline for the air conditioned minibus.

On the way back to our hotel we drop by a papyrus sealing shop and are shown the ancient technique of its production and how to tell a real papyrus from a banana skin one. Our hosts offer us our first hibiscus tea of the trip. As we look about the many walls of papyrus Cordell, the satellite engineering manager from Canada, starts to feel a little relaxed and questions ‘do you thing they slipped something into our tea’. We put it down to dehydration rather than sometime sully in our drinks designed to open our wallets. Vince buys enough papyrus to start his own Egyptian museum whilst I talk politics with Mamdah. I was surprised that at age 73 President Mubarak has served for 29 years and that there is much debate and concern about the potential for himself, his supposedly puppet son or very conservative parties to be elected in the upcoming campaign.

We make our way to Cairo train station and locate our cabins for the override ride to the southern city of Aswan.