Patrick’s last few days in Cairo (Sept. 4-7)

Truthfully we didn’t do very much during Patrick’s last few days here. We lazed around the house all day on Friday after church and most of the day Saturday…maybe even all the day. Our Israel trip was exhausting for everybody.

Furthermore, we went from what felt like a nice, temperate climate—one that had me wishing for a sweater some evenings—to…this. Heat and sand and dust and smog. Being in Cairo is exhausting.

Sitting around got boring after a while, even if we weren’t feeling quite up to doing much yet. Or maybe I was the only one who was feeling that way. I can never tell.

The Pyramids…again

I think I have sand in my teeth…and everywhere else, for that matter, but the pyramids were all ours for today. For some odd reason there were very few tourists around. I’m not sure what was keeping them away. It may have been the heat. Or the wind whipping scorching hot sand around.

We climbed up Khufu’s pyramid as far as we were aloud, not that the guards would have stopped us if we had tried to break the “rules.” Most of the guards were sitting in the shade doing absolutely nothing, not that I can blame them. This heat sucks energy out of your soul and leaves you dragging under the best of circumstances. I can only imagine how it is to sit in this heat while fasting all day, including abstaining from water (which in this climate is borderline suicidal, in my opinion).

 

Patrick slid down this cement ramp on the front of the pyramids. It was a lot less fun than he thought it was going to be, but he made me take a video of it, anyway. Maybe I’ll post it one day.

All Rachel wanted to do was collect rocks so she wouldn’t sit still for any pictures. Unfortunately the rocks were too hot to handle so she kept throwing them and screaming at them for being too hot. So we didn’t really get a great family picture, but at least we tried.

After much hassle and haggling, we committed to ride some camels out into the desert a little ways. Our “guide” wanted to take us on a big, long trip but, since Rachel is terrified of camels and I’m pregnant, and because they only brought us two camels instead of three, and because we didn’t feel like getting royally ripped off, we insisted that they take us only to the panoramic viewpoint and then back to the pyramids.

As it turned out, we didn’t go far enough out to get a panoramic shot, but it did put us squarely in the desert.

 

Getting sand in your eyes was hard to avoid. The wind was blowing constantly but wasn’t always carrying sand. One minute you’d be fine and the next minute you’d be shielding your eyes from the sand that would suddenly swirl up into your face and try to gouge your eyes out.

Rachel was pretty brave considering she didn’t want to ride the camels at all. The things you do for relatives! She didn’t even scream the whole way and was able to smile for some pictures and wave to me on the other camel and talk about what we were doing. That said, she did do a whole lot of screaming as well.

She sat with Andrew, clinging to him like a little monkey the whole time. Patrick sat behind me so that there’d be room for the baby bump up front.

 

We walked down to the Sphinx using a dirt path by the tombs instead of walking down the sidewalk, which meant that we got to do a little bit of exploring; we were completely uninhibited by pesky tourist police officers, mind you, because none of them wanted to get out of their bit of shade to stop us from going anywhere. There weren’t any signs telling us not to, so we figured it was okay.

 

The ticket into the pyramid complex includes admittance into a number of tombs and things, which are always locked up. Usually there are guards sitting close by and they will open the doors for you and accompany you inside, locking up after you leave. Unfortunately no one was willing to budge from their make-shift chairs to let us in anything, which was kind of sad. But at least we weren’t being followed around by tourism police the whole time we were there.

 

We did, however, finally get to go up close to the Sphinx. The first time we visited the pyramids (three years ago) you had to have a separate ticket to see the Sphinx, so we thought it was the still the same. I guess since they’ve redone the complex and raised the ticket price the Sphinx is now included. We didn’t know that.

 

They still don’t let you get very close to it, which is understandable because it’s a little crumbly. It was nice to finally be able to go back there, though. We’ve only ever seen a few people behind those gates and always wondered how they got back there. Now we know.

We’ll be picking sand out of our ears for the next week, but at least we know.

We also know now that if you ask to be taken to al-Harem instead of al-Ahramat, taxi drivers figure you’re going into Giza for non-touristic purposes and won’t try to rip you off as badly. Al-Harem happens to mean pyramids, but it’s also the name of a main street in Giza (and since it’s named for the pyramids, the pyramids are right on it).

The Citadel and Fawanees

Poor Rachel was wandering around like Toodles on Hook all morning long.

“I lost my uncon,” she kept saying, “I lost my Uncon Patwit!”

Uncle Patrick was having a glorious sleep-in. We all kind of slept in, really. Rachel woke up Daddy at 9:00, I slept until 10:30, and finally at 11:40 Rachel could take it no longer and burst into the guest bedroom to find the dear Uncle Patrick she had lost.

Then she remembered that she was scared of him still and came to a screeching halt. I’m sure her original plan involved climbing up onto the bed and jumping on him because that’s her favorite way of waking people up…so hopefully Patrick won’t be too surprised if that happens tomorrow. They made friends today, so it’s possible.

Yesterday Rachel’s assessment of Uncle Patrick was, “He’s a little bit scary.” Today when we asked her what she thought of him she said, “He’s cute!”

We left for the Citadel soon after Patrick woke up. Everything closes early during Ramadan so we had to make sure we had enough time to actually do something.

Patrick had seen the Citadel on our ride home from the Dervishes yesterday and was curious about it, so it seemed like a good place to take him. We headed up to the Mohammed Ali mosque first. I love going into the courtyard and looking out over the city through the little cutouts in the window.

The marble was so hot on our poor bare feet, so we tried to stay in the shady spots. Rachel kept saying, “Oh! Hot shade! Hot shade!” We walked the whole area of the courtyard, in the shade of course. Rachel thought it was a long walk. We were holding hands and walking very slowly, a few paces behind the boys.

Rachel started singing Dory’s song from Finding Nemo, “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…” and then stopped herself.

“No, I am not swimming!” she said, “I am walking.”

She took a deep breath and started singing the revised version of the song, “Just keep walking, just keep walking, just keep walking, walking, walking…Just keep walking…”

As long as she’s happy, right?

We went inside the mosque and told Patrick a bit about the architecture and about Islam.

“There are 365 lamps in here,” I told him, indicating the chandeliers circling the room.

“Yeah, half of them don’t work,” he scoffed.

Oh, I’m so proud of him. He’s understanding Egypt so well already.

Since Andrew and I had already been to the National Military museum and weren’t very impressed with it, we decided we’d check out the National Police museum. There was a nice, almost empty courtyard that we relaxed in for a few minutes before heading into the museum.It’s high tourist season right now, so it’s nice to get away from the crowds.

Our favorite display was a diorama depicting the Battle of Ismailiyya. They used actual army men toys—I totally recognized all the poses the men were in, their weapons, the tank. I think my parents still have a bucket of these somewhere in their house.

At least they painted them…

We also enjoyed looking at the random Pharonic artifacts (they have so many of them they don’t know what to do with them; why not put them in the National Police Museum?) and the “Illegal drugs recognition kit.” I’ve never actually seen drug paraphernalia, so it was nice to have it displayed so plainly.

I was just noting the difference between a hash pipe and other drug pipes when Rachel announced she had to use the bathroom, so we left the museum. It was free, anyway. And not all that interesting.

We wandered outside to find the WC and were accosted by the “Supreme Matron of the WC” who graciously let us into the stall with a “chair.” Usually she keeps that stall tied closed because we wouldn’t want just anyone using the porcelain throne, right?

I was glad that she opened it for us because Rachel doesn’t quite understand how to use squatters. What I didn’t like was that she insisted we keep the door open. Because of the “chair.”

Rachel wouldn’t go with the lady watching and the lady wouldn’t let me close the door, so we gave up and left. The lady asked me for money. I told her no since we hadn’t actually used the facilities. Besides, she wouldn’t even let us close the door!

Andrew and Patrick had finished with the museum by the time we came out of the WC. We sat in a corner and sneaked in a little Ramadan snack. Technically Rachel and I don’t have to sneak because we’re exempt from fasting, but it’s a little awkward for Andrew and Patrick to eat in public. While sitting there, I realized that I had to use the WC also but I didn’t want to face the Supreme Matron again.

Patrick noted aloud that a group of Egyptian girls had used the WC and the Supreme Matron didn’t follow them inside or ask for money.

I decided to just go for it. Walk in, and leave…without paying. So I did. The Supreme Matron sent her minion in to let me into the stall with the kursi but I ignored her and used a squatter stall. She asked me for money and I told her I didn’t have any—which was true because I typically don’t carry money. Then I left.

She was miffed and they talked about me behind my back, but I didn’t care. I don’t mind paying to use a toilet in public, but not so much at a place that charges a $10 entrance fee (granted, we only paid $5 because we have student cards) or to Supreme Matrons who are rude and don’t even let me close the bathroom door or offer me any toilet paper, and who are only asking me for money because I’m a “tourist.” I have never been asked for baksheesh to use the bathrooms at the Citadel before; I don’t see why I should start handing it out now.

Using public restrooms in the Middle East is always…interesting…and usually very frustrating.

We walked from the Citadel down to Ibn Tulun, making a few stops along the way to watch a bus being pushed up a hill by a front loader, to buy a bottle of what Rachel calls “icy cold” water for 2 LE (instead of the 12 LE the guy at the Citadel wanted to charge us), and to look at some Ramadan decorations. Rachel sang “just keep walking” the whole time.

We also had to cross the street a few times. This is what Patrick thought of the traffic:

Our favorite fanous was one constructed of a discarded Doritos box.

Our favorite garland was made of empty pasta packages. For as much as Cairenes litter, they sure do know how to reuse things well.

When we got to Ibn Tulun it had already closed for the day. Too bad. Instead we just found a taxi and headed home. Everything else was closed, too.

All of downtown is decked out for Ramadan and we were planning on heading back to walk around and look at all the lamps and things that are set up, but Patrick and I both took too long of naps before dinner and that kind of set us behind schedule.

Instead we went out to see our local “Ramadan Tree,” which is actually several trees on a midan that are swathed in fawanees (which is the plural for fanous, which means lamp…pluralization is one of the many reasons I find Arabic incredibly difficult).

It’s fun to have so many bright lights out; it makes everything seem cheery and festive. Since we can’t go Christmas-light-looking here we go for Ramadan-fanous-shuftis instead.

We also stopped by Road 9 to run some errands and inquire about purchasing our own fanous. They really aren’t all that expensive; the challenge will be finding a sturdy, transportable one. We did end up buying some Ramadan fabric, which I’m excited about. My friend Melissa said they had friends over for dinner and she mentioned needing to go and cover her house in Ramadan fabric. I thought that was a wonderful idea…so we bought some just so we could do that when we get home. Is it weird to buy fabric just so you can use it when you have guests over to eat Arabic food?

If it is, who cares? Ramadan Kareem!

Welcome to Patrick

Patrick’s here; he arrived without any mishap and waltzed through our door around 5:00 PM. We let him sit down for a minute, visited, and ordered Arzak for dinner (thank you, Otlob), which we wolfed down so that we could get ready to go see the Sufi dancers downtown.

Andrew stayed home to babysit and I took Patrick out by myself.

I hate going downtown by myself, but as Patrick pointed out I wasn’t really by myself. I was with somebody who didn’t know anything. That’s helpful…somehow…

Andrew and Rachel walked us out to help us find a taxi but there were no taxis in sight so instead we rode the metro to Sadat hoping to find a taxi there, which meant that I would have to talk to the driver and negotiate the fare.

The metro was eerily empty. Besides one other man, we were the only ones waiting for the metro to come at our station. A few people filed on and off as we cruised through the city, but no one ever had to sit by anyone else.

 

We got off at Sadat and exited near the Mugamma, which was also eerily empty. The roads are usually blurry with cars whizzing by, but today we were able to leisurely amble across the street without worrying about getting hit, let alone seeing a car.

Eventually a taxi drove by and I asked to be dropped off at Midan al-Hussein. I overpaid (by a whole dollar) so that I wouldn’t have to fight with the driver. I hate bargaining.

Even the Khan was quiet. Lights were strung up everywhere, but a ton of the stores were closed and instead of being jostled by thronging, bustling crowds of people we were able to just walk where we needed to go. It was easy. I love Ramadan (sometimes).

We got to Wikalat al-Ghury shortly before 7:30 PM. There was a big group of people gathered to wait, but the doors hadn’t opened yet, which we thought was odd. After waiting for a while we began to wonder if there really was a show tonight. We asked, and there was. But they didn’t open the doors until 8:00.

Apparently during Ramadan the show starts at 9:00. I hate Ramadan (sometimes). Tonight was going to be a late night.

Poor Patrick was already so tired. Waiting for the show to start was torture for him. He was dozing off before the show even started.

He didn’t sleep very well on the plane and kept dozing off during the show, as well, which is too bad because it was amazing, yet again. He said that he probably caught about half of it and that the spinning guys made him feel a little nauseated. But I think he enjoyed himself.

I didn’t think the first Whirling Dervish did as good of a job as the guy we saw when my mom was here. But I suppose that’s forgivable since he was fasting all day and the show started only an hour or so after iftar. I guess we can’t expect him to be too energetic while twirling for 45 minutes straight after fasting all day in the heat.

The rest of the performers seemed as equally energetic as last time and I liked the group of three Dervishes at the end better this time around. I was not as good at taking pictures as Andrew was. And that was a lot of comparisons I just made. (I’m tired.)

As good as the concert was, Patrick and I were both relieved when it was over. Patrick was about to fall over on his feet and I was pretty tired myself.

Before we could find a ride home, though, we had to find change. It only took us two stops to find a store with change and the guy offered to just give me change without having me purchase anything--I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before—I bought a bottle of water, anyway, because we were thirsty and hadn’t brought any water with us.

Catching a cab at the Khan is always relatively easy and we found one right away. I told him where we wanted to go in Arabic and he spoke Arabic to me the whole time. He didn’t even try to speak English, which was kind of nice. I even understood everything that he said, although I wasn’t always sure how to respond.

We got a little lost after getting off the autostrade, but once our taxi driver got us unlost by asking for directions at every corner and I recognized where we were again I was able to give him directions to our apartment.

I paid him and wished him a happy Ramadan and that was that.

As much as I hate going downtown by myself I always feel a sense of accomplishment when I survive. And I always do survive, somehow.

Poor Andrew worried the whole time we were gone. I think we sent more than a dozen text messages back and forth, with Andrew asking if we’re doing alright every step of the journey and me texting back as we complete each leg.

“We’re in the taxi.”

“Good! Was it hard to get one?”

“It was fine.”

“Call me if you need help giving directions.”

“Okay.”

That sort of thing. I like that he wants to take care of me even though he’s not with me. I also like knowing that I can get places by myself, but it’s just nice to know that if I got helplessly lost or scared Andrew’s there to help me out (which usually means I call him and have him talk to whoever I can’t communicate with).

Tomorrow we’re planning on taking things a little slower so that everything Patrick’s seen in the past few hours can catch up with him before we whisk him into Cairene traffic again. Traffic seems to be hard on visitors.