The last five days in Cairo, Giza
and the Fayoum flew by fast. It was one rollicking, rip-roaring adventure that
played out pretty much perfectly. I arrived in Tunis this afternoon, exhausted
but full of great memories to last a lifetime.
I'm resting in my beautiful medina
suite at the Palais Bayram, a restored boutique hotel in the old kasbah of this
North African capital, traditional music wafting up the stairs to my room
thanks to a local wedding taking place in the tile-studded courtyard down below.
I just had a long, meandering,
beguiling wander around the zigzagging streets of the neighborhood, getting
utterly, hopelessly, wonderfully lost for hours. If the second chapter of my
summer travel extravaganza plays out as spectacularly as the first, I know I'm
in for a treat!
The reason I'm in Tunisia is to
celebrate the wedding of my good friends Sonia and Motez, which is also,
indirectly, the reason I was just in Egypt. You see, Sonia told us the wedding
date about a year in advance, so I've known for some time that I'd be spending
a chuck of this summer in the region. Since it's a far way to travel from Hong
Kong, I decided from the get-go to combine the wedding with some supplementary
travel in this corner of the globe.
Egypt has always enticed me since my
earliest childhood. Although I flirted with the idea of instead hitting up
either Morocco or Algeria, there was always a front-runner in my mind. And I'm
happy to report that visiting Egypt was easily one of the greatest
travel-related decisions of my life.
I also had the luxury of lots of
time to plan! As I said, I've known about the timing for quite a long while
now, so I was able to thoroughly research things before setting off. Perhaps
that’s one of the reasons nearly every moment of the trip fell so spectacularly
into place. Then again, perhaps it was mostly luck.
And I set the mood by binging on any
Egypt-related movie I could find in the lead-up to my departure.
I watched The
English Patient, of course, and Woody Allen’s The Purple Rose of Cairo.
And I squeezed in multiple viewings of Death on the Nile, with its once-in-a-lifetime cast and gorgeous on-location cinematography. (I also read Agatha Christie's original novel.)
I screened both Cecil B. DeMille’s 1934
version of Cleopatra with Claudette Colbert and Henry Wilcoxon... and Joseph
Mankiewicz’s far lengthier 1962 version with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard
Burton. And I watched Karloff in The Mummy—which normally only gets
Halloween-time viewings in my household—and the James Bond favorite The Spy Who
Loved Me with Roger Moore. Yes, I even discovered an obscure MGM classic
from 1933 called The Barbarian, where Mexican matinee idol Ramon Navarro
passes off as an Egyptian nobleman with ever-glamorous Myrna Loy as his fickle inamorata.
After all that, I was itching to go!
I took off from Hong Kong around 7pm
on Friday, 28 July. Shockingly, there are no direct commercial flights linking
the city I call home and Egypt’s capital, Cairo. There is a direct flight from
Guangzhou, a Chinese metropolis about a two-hour train ride from Hong Kong, but
with the timing of that flight’s departure around 11pm, it was just too close
to cut it for a Friday after work. (The airport is a further hour outside the
city center once you’ve arrived.) I could have departed a day later instead,
leaving at the same time on Saturday evening, with ample time to get to
Guangzhou. But that would mean losing an entire twenty-four hours in Egypt,
something I was absolutely not prepared to do considering I only had a handful
of days into which I was trying to cram so much sightseeing.
That’s probably far too much of a
backstory, so to cut to the chase, I wound up flying Etihad from Hong Kong,
with a three-hour layover in Abu Dhabi before continuing on to my final
destination. To cut out even more boring filler, let’s just jump right ahead to
the real start of the fun, when I arrived in Cairo around 5am Saturday morning,
indescribably excited for the adventure to come.
Now I’ve landed in a lot of cities
and, thus, taken my fair share of taxi rides from remote airports to downtowns.
In all my travels, I’ve never had a more atmospheric voyage than the one to the
heart of Cairo. The city appears to be universally shaded in with a single beige crayon. It was smooth sailing at that early hour, with few cars on the
road as we cruised along. Sand-brown mosques appeared right and left, their
sleek minarets piercing the sky like hypodermic needles; from highway overpasses,
I looked down upon colonial facades whose architectural embellishments were
well-preserved beneath a veneer of chipping paint and layers of dust.
Faded apartment buildings stretch on
endlessly, with the haphazard peppering of countless domes of what seem like a
thousand mosques. I say this in full truthfulness: a simple taxi ride has never
gotten me so excited to explore a new destination as that unforgettable twenty-minute
journey.
Courtney, my travel companion for
the Egypt leg of my summer vacation, had flown in two days earlier. Having
found an incredibly cheap itinerary, she decided she was prepared to spend a
day and a half alone in a swanky five-star while she awaited my appearance.
Thus, I did not arrive at the hotel I had booked for my first night, the
Windsor. I instead went to meet Courtney at the hotel where she had been holed
up for the past thirty-six hours, the Steigenberger.
This worked out pretty perfectly for
me. First off, I had called ahead and arranged for the hotel to send their car
to pick me up at the airport, so I easily found my driver upon arrival. Having
been sent by the hotel, he obviously had no difficulty finding this somewhat
recent addition to Cairo’s accommodation scene. Secondly, although I would not
have selected the Steigenberger myself, its downtown location was absolutely
perfect, just steps away from Tahrir Square, the pulsing heart of the city,
granting us easy access to explore. And, third, because Courtney had arrived
two nights before, I was able to go straight to her room when I got in around 7am,
instead of having to worry about the annoying standard 2pm check-in time that
accompanies most hotels. I showered, changed and even sampled a few mouthfuls
of some Egyptian desserts left in the mini-fridge from her last night’s dinner.
But while doing so, I learned that
Courtney’s introduction to the capital had been a far cry from my own, and, in
her words, "a disaster, at best." Somehow, the hotel had
misunderstood her flight number, so there was no driver holding a placard with
her name at the airport when she landed. She had to find a normal taxi to take
her to town, and, as fate would have it, wound up choosing one who happened to
get decidedly lost en route.
She also had the misfortune to land
at nighttime, with such horrendous traffic and terrible driving on display that
the poor girl was fearing for her life. And, not speaking or understanding a lick
of Arabic, she had little influence upon the situation. Having decided before
leaving Hong Kong that she was also taking a temporary respite from
intoxicating beverages, she couldn't even unwind with a nice glass of red once
she finally did make it to the Steigenberger.
I almost felt guilty describing the
perfection of my own first hour in Egypt. But I think dear Courtney knew that
now that we were together, things were about to take a turn for the better.
As I mentioned, I had a lot of things I wanted to
squeeze in to my five days in Cairo. I had checked out no fewer than four guidebooks
from the library—in addition to ordering a trusty Frommer’s through Amazon—and each book I read just added potential attractions,
restaurants and ideas to my itinerary. I was so jealous that Courtney had a whole
day and a half more than me in town and, to be honest, rather bewildered that
she had chosen to spend such precious hours confined in what seemed to me to be
a rather charmless hotel that could have been anywhere.
My itinerary for that first day was straightforward:
to dive right into the exhibits on display at the world-famous Egyptian Museum,
literally steps away from the Steigenberger’s front door. It seemed like a perfect introduction to the country,
with Egypt’s oldest, most iconic treasures presented just as they have been since
the museum’s founding over a century ago.
However, before heading out, I sent a message to my
sole contact in Cairo, Ahmed, a friend of several of my Hong Kong buddies,
because he had studied in our city a few years back. Not having ever met Ahmed
myself, I thought perhaps he’d be willing to meet us for breakfast, or maybe a
coffee, or a dinner, at some point over the next five days, and at this early
hour, I just wanted to let him know I’d arrived safely. But when we spoke that
morning, I realized almost instantly that Ahmed was more than willing to go
above and beyond the call of duty, to truly share his love for his home city
with us. Before we met, I already knew Ahmed and I were pals.
“Habibi! Welcome to Egypt! You are close to my
place, so I can come meet you now if you like. Do you want to explore Islamic
Cairo? I know it like I know my hand! I know the history behind each corner
there. Would you like to meet in twenty minutes? I’m not far, and I’d love to
take you around and share the stories.”
I always have a plan when I travel, but I am also
always willing to toss that plan to the wind if an exceptional opportunity
presents itself. Here was a perfect example! Since we were originally planning
to explore Islamic Cairo on day two, it seemed like a no-brainer to simply flip
the itineraries of the first and second days, with the added bonus of having an
expert guide to tour us around.
“Sure, Ahmed! That sounds amazing,” I told him.
“Great, let’s meet in Tahrir Square. It’s really
close to your hotel. There’s a KFC there, so let’s just meet in front, O.K.?
See you in twenty minutes.”
It was still early morning, so the air was cool
although the desert sun was already shining. The streets were quiet and all the
shops were still closed, though a few pedestrians were mulling about. My first
memories of Downtown Cairo are of silence and peaceful calm, nothing like the
chaotic, frenetic scene I had envisioned from my research.
Walking to our meeting point, Courtney and I paused
for a moment on a corner, looking towards the Egyptian Museum, all rose pink
and proud in the soft light. I had to pinch myself, I was so sure this was a
dream. “Tomorrow, I’ll be inside that building. Inside, face to face with King
Tut’s mask and the mummies of the ancient Pharaohs. And later tomorrow
afternoon, I’ll be at the foot of the Pyramids themselves!”
“You are in Egypt,” I kept repeating to myself. “I
am in Egypt.” Robert Louis Stevenson once observed that “to travel hopefully is
a better thing than to arrive,” and I suppose, sometimes, this can be true. Let
me assure you, however, if it’s Egypt you’re talking about, it’s definitely
better to arrive.
We met Ahmed a few moments later, just as planned,
with a view of Tahrir Square and the national flag billowing in the morning
wind atop that enormous pole. He took us for Egyptian breakfast at a place
called Felfela, just around the corner.
“How starving are you?” he asked us. In truth, Courtney
had just had breakfast at the hotel, and I wasn’t actually that hungry myself.
But we both wanted to sample a typical breakfast.
“We could eat a little something, I suppose,” was
our reply. Somehow, Ahmed understood this to mean neither Courtney nor I had
eaten in days and likely wouldn’t eat again for a few more. He chose three
items (a trio of pita sandwiches with different fillings), doubled the order so
that Court and I could have an entire one each, and then ordered some more for
himself! One was filled with falafel, the second with fuul—an Egyptian favorite
of fava beans, vegetables and spices—and the last one with hearty mesaqaa.
Needless to say, the food was amazingly delicious,
but there was far too much of it, and we did wind up leaving a fair amount
behind. Still, it was a tasty foray into the Cairo culinary scene, and the
first of many incredible meals.
Ahmed suggested we get to know each other over a coffee
break in a neighboring alley, so we plopped down at an atmospheric sidewalk joint called Zahret Al-Bustan. “Want a
shisha?”
“Do Egyptians smoke shisha for breakfast?” I asked
him.
“Egyptians smoke shisha all day and all night,” he
told me.
“Sure, we’ll share one then.”
“Habibi,” as he called me again, “you two should each have your own shisha. In
Egypt, we do not share them. One apple and one peach, then?”
And like that Courtney had a mint tea, I had a dark,
strong, bitter coffee and we each had a water pipe to smoke. Ignoring Ahmed’s
advice for a moment, we each sampled one another’s shisha. Serendipitously
realizing that we each preferred our own flavor, there was no further need to
exaggerate our foreignness by sharing.
We sat and talked for a good forty minutes, covering
a range of topics. Most poignant and memorable for me was Ahmed’s firsthand
account of the 2011 Revolution, the epicenter of which had been the very square
and side streets where we’d spent the last hour.
Almost every building in downtown Cairo seems to
have its own secret story to tell. They may be a little timeworn, but they're
also undeniably graceful. It's an impossibly elegant world, and I couldn't help
fantasizing that I had a cozy little flat in a fourth-floor walk up in one of
these apartment buildings. I'd been in Egypt a mere few hours, and here I was
already imagining moving here.
At this point, Ahmed, Courtney and I jumped in a
taxi and headed to Islamic Cairo for an expert tour. Our driver dropped us off
right near the famous Khan el-Khalili market, where dozens of Egyptians peddle
their wares, mostly, it must be admitted, for tourists. Still, it's an
electric, charged lane with oodles of character.
We then began our "tour" of Al'Muizz
Street, with its impressive assortment of ancient mosques, schools, baths, and
even one of the old city gates of Cairo. Ahmed did not exaggerate; he knew the
stories of all the structures, telling us about old rulers and customs.
The streets we explored that afternoon were literally
thousands of years old, with some of the oldest buildings I've ever seen. And
the intricacy of the Islamic architecture was overwhelmingly beautiful.
We escaped the blistering Egyptian sun by ducking
into a dark, quiet restaurant for lunch, where we feasted on mezze and drank
tea, as both Courtney and I continued to absorb all the incredible sights we
had taken in so far.
Afterwards Ahmed led us on a meandering stroll back
downtown, as it was past check in time now, so our room at the Windsor Hotel
would be ready. It took awhile to find the place, and even Ahmed got a bit
confused by the hotel's hidden location in spite of the fact that he's been many
times before.
But what a gem of a place! The Windsor is the type
of hotel I'd given up hope still existed, a freeze frame of another era. The
bird cage elevator is still manually operated by a member of the staff, while
an authentic switchboard behind the front desk connects the Windsor to the
outside world. So before even officially checking in, we took some time to
explore.
On the second floor of the hotel sits the magical Barrel Bar, where Ahmed,
Courtney and I promptly plopped down after all the walking we'd done. I sipped
the first of many Stellas, the most well-known Egyptian beer, and loved soaking
up the air of nostalgia that pervades every inch of the room. On Courtney's
urging, we also ordered a helping of hummus.
After our little break, Ahmed had to leave, so it
was a perfect time for Courtney and me to settle in. The employees at the
Windsor are first rate, and they gamely showed us several of the available
rooms so we could choose our favorite. Once done, we headed straight back down
to the Barrel Bar and grabbed prime real estate stools, chatting with the
friendly bartender as we planned our night.
From the hotel, we made our way to the banks of the
Nile, where all the feluccas are moored. We struck a deal with our friendly
captain, boarded the boat, and were treated to a breezy moonlit cruise on the
world's most legendary river.
For nearly an hour, we sailed up and down the Nile,
past riverfront hotels and under bridges, drinking in the sights, sounds and
smells of mysterious Cairo in the most thrilling manner imaginable.
A horse drawn carriage took us back to the Windsor
afterwards, where we rode that birdcage elevator back up to our room. I don't
think the first day of a vacation has ever been quite so perfect as this one
was. And I shall keep the memories on ice forever, ready to relive at a
moment's notice.
Our second full
day was one for the history books, beginning with
breakfast in the Barrel Bar, which had by this point already become one of my
favorite rooms on earth. It was a simple affair, to be sure, but I can't recall
ever having started a morning in as charming a locale. The way the early light
drifts through the windows, shining its beams upon the curios displayed on the
walls, makes a simple cup of coffee and some toast taste like breakfast for a
king (or, perhaps, a pharaoh).
And the whole thing was wildly augmented by the
anticipation of exploring the Egyptian Museum and knowing I'd go to sleep that
evening in the shadow of the Great Pyramid.
The son of the Windsor's owner drove us to
the gates of the museum shortly after opening. Entering through the magnificent
façade upon buying our tickets and photography passes, Courtney and I were both
awestruck by the airy atrium in which we found ourselves, with towering statues
from pharaonic times staring down at us from on high.
My guide book suggested making a beeline to
the museum’s second floor to visit the Tutankhamen rooms in relative silence,
while the rest of the crowd pours over the treasures on the ground level. We
took this bit of advice to heart, and headed upstairs, where we were soon
face-to-face with nineteen-year-old Tut himself, staring back at us through the
glass vitrine.
The Tutankhamen treasures were mind blogging,
from his iconic throne and canopic jars to his gold death mask, perhaps the
single greatest symbol of the splendor of Ancient Egypt.
That morning, we also took in the museum’s
sample of Fayoum Portraits, which I’d not really heard about before I started
researching for this trip, but which caught my imagination when I first read
about them. When one thinks of ancient Egyptian art, our minds generally
envision the highly stylized human figures, with feet and hands pointed in the
same direction, a la Walk Like an
Egyptian. The Fayoum portraits couldn't be farther from this! A bridge
between ancient art and the Greco-Roman style, the Fayoum Portraits are
haunting likenesses captured in oil, often painted during the subject's
lifetime but intended to grace their coffin. (I was so struck by them that when
I further learned the Fayoum itself is only an hour or so drive from Cairo, I
decided to include it on our itinerary.)
An obvious highlight of the museum for any
visitor has got to be the display or royal mummies. A special, extra ticket is
required to enter these two galleries and photography is strictly forbidden, but,
still, you'd be a fool to even consider skipping out. The eleven mummies each
have remarkable characteristics, and our guide book walked us through each one's
unique story, from Ramses the Great to Seti I to Hatsepshut. Seeing these in
person after having learned their names in middle school so long ago gave me
goose bumps.
Courtney was getting a bit peckish, but I
could have gone on for hours without eating, I was so engrossed in the
treasures we were finding. Still, we learned that as long as we kept our
tickets, we could leave and re-enter the museum for further exploration. The
Nile Ritz Carlton was just steps away, so we parked ourselves in its elegant lobby
for a nice spot of lunch before returning for more museum time.
No amount of words can truly express the treasures
contained in the Egyptian Museum. But suffice to say, it was a full, glorious
introduction to the remarkable place, and on my next trip to Cairo, a return
visit here will be priority number one.
I first glimpsed the Great
Pyramid from the side window of the taxi that shuttled us from the Windsor to
the Mena House later that afternoon. It was on a dusty Cairo highway, as we
sped along. In the distance, the structure was looming unforgettably. All the
sudden, I was silent, awe-struck. Courtney did not spot it immediately, and we
had a private reenactment of that memorable moment in Jurassic Park, when Dr. Grant physically turns Dr. Sattler's head
to see the brontosaurus of which she is unaware.
The Pyramids are such
magnificent things to behold that even espying them from a crusty taxi on a
gritty highway is breathtaking. So to then pull into the grounds of the truly
beautiful Mena House Hotel took the experience to a whole other level.
A former hunting lodge of Isma'il Pasha, the main
building was constructed in 1869 and refitted into a luxury hotel 1886. Since
then, it's welcomed the likes of Charlie Chaplin, Winston Churchill, Frank
Sinatra, Agatha Christie, Charlton Heston, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, President
Richard Nixon and, now, Paul Parisi. It's where Myrna Loy's character stays in The Barbarian and even gets a mention in Christie's novel Death on the Nile, though it plays no part in the film version.
The Pyramids steal the show here, as you would
expect. The whole place seems designed to maximize their effect. Even its
address—6 Pyramids Road—emphasizes the sheer
proximity of these ancient wonders. You can see them towering beyond the hotel
from pretty much everywhere.
A golf cart whisked us from reception to our
Pyramid-view room, and we promptly paid a visit to the glorious al fresco
lounge, with flat fountains mirroring an unforgettable reflection. As I'm sure I don't have to tell you, I immediately
ordered a Stella, and scarcely—if at all—can I
ever recall having sipped a cold beer in quite so entrancing a venue. All that was missing was a jazz orchestra serenading us with The Sheik of Araby.
That night, Courtney and I attended
the Sound and Light Show that is so memorably immortalized in The Spy Who Loved Me. The narration
doesn't seem to have changed a lick since Roger Moore was around, but seeing
the Great Sphinx and the majestic Pyramids all illuminated on the dark Giza
plateau was nothing short of amazing.
A little history, a little
mythology, a lot of color, a dash of drama. As long as you have a good
attitude, there's no finer introduction to Giza than this spectacle.
Back at the Mena House, we feasted
on Indian specialties in the sophisticated Mughul Room, and then we took some
time to sneak around the more hushed corridors of the main building of the
hotel before turning in for the night.
The following day was almost
certainly among the most jam-packed of my entire life. After breakfast
overlooking the Pyramids, we made our way to the nearby NB Stables, run by a
garrulous Egyptian named Nasser.
He selected two horses for Courtney and I, and then
assigned his son to be our guide, taking us around the Pyramids for the rest of
the morning. Our ride started slowly, as we simply followed our guide along the
streets and then turned through a gate that opened onto the vast expanse of the
Giza Plateau.
And then, all of a sudden, our guide's horse started
galloping towards the Pyramids. Courtney's horse and my own followed, without
even a kick from me. In that moment, Nino Rota's unforgettable score from Death on the Nile started playing in my head. I'm pretty sure I had actual
tears in my eyes. Life is made up of so many moments, and it's very easy to
talk in superlatives labeling individual ones as "thrilling" or
"magical" or "fantastic." But every now and then, a moment
comes along that is so singularly spectacular that simply describing it with
fancy words doesn't do it any justice. This moment was surely one of those. Even the photos can't capture the breeze, the sand, the sun and the music I could hear.
The first Pyramid we came up to that
morning was the smallest of the three, Menkaure's (the one that Lois Chiles,
Simon MacCorkindale and Mia Farrow climb in Death
on the Nile). Let's just say, it's only small when compared to its
neighbors, as the structure is actually over two hundred feet in height!
Back in the twelfth century, Al-Aziz Uthman, the
then-Sultan of Egypt, decided it would be a good idea to demolish all the
Pyramids. Starting with Menkaure's, he had his men work at the task for eight
months before giving up, but the gash in its north face is still visible.
The second of the Pyramids—and for many, the most iconic—is Khafre's. Although
actually smaller than his father's Great Pyramid, Khafre's appears larger from
several prominent vantage points. Moreover, its proximity to the Sphinx also
helps it to linger in many a memory.
And, finally, the structure is
instantly distinguishable because it's the only one of the major pyramids here
to retain a large trace of the original white limestone casing that once
covered all three.
Near to Khafre's pyramid is the
Solar Boat Museum, a rather large, air conditioned room that displays the
world's oldest boat. Found nearby in over one thousand disassembled pieces in
1954, the one-hundred and fifty foot long boat is believed either to have
actually carried the pharaoh's body down the Nile to the site of his tomb, or
more symbolically, to provide him with a vessel to journey across the sky in
the afterlife. You have to don special shoe coverings to enter, as traipsing in desert sands can cause damage to the fragile artifact.
Finally, we came to the Great
Pyramid itself, in my book, easily the most impressive. The structure is four
hundred and fifty feet tall, comprised of over two million giant stone slabs
(each weighing in at a whopping two tons!), and was the world's tallest
structure for four thousand years! Talk about mind-boggling!
The line to enter the Great Pyramid
that late in the morning was far too long to be worthwhile. We decided that, if
we really wanted to, we could simply return tomorrow at the opening hour, and
we should continue to gallop around exploring on our steeds while we had the
opportunity.
We dismounted and walked around what
some people call the "Queen's Pyramids." These are the tiny pyramids
that surround the major ones, and since there was no line to enter, we even
ducked inside of one.
Then we rode to the Great Sphinx
itself, that perplexing statue whose murky origins are lost to history. With
his lion's body and man's face, the Sphinx is one of Egypt's most enigmatic
attractions. And it was fascinating to inspect it up close.
While there, a friendly, young guide
approached us and explained he could take our photos in several cool poses. He
promptly took my camera and told Courtney and I exactly where to stand, where
to put of hands, and where to put our heads, so that it looks like we were
punching, kissing or leaning on the Sphinx, or stepping on the Pyramids.
He was such a genuine, lovely guy that I asked if he
was free that afternoon to serve as my guide for the other ancient sights I
wanted to visit while in the area: Dahshur, Memphis and Saqqara. He seemed
delighted at the thought, and said he'd meet me at the Mena House entrance at
1pm for the tour.
Courtney and I re-mounted our horses and followed
our guide to one final spot, where we enjoyed a Coke with a phenomenal view of
all three Pyramids in the midst of the desert.
And then we galloped away over the sands, back
towards the sprawl of the city, all the way to Nasser's stable, where we had
tea with our hookah-smoking host before heading back to the hotel. It was only
around noon, but as far as we were concerned, we'd seen so much that it already
felt like a full day!
The grounds of the Mena House were so inviting and
the weather so warm, that I briefly toyed with the idea of cancelling the
private guided tour of the other ancient sites I had arranged. Courtney had
already told me she had every intention to savor the glories of the hotel that
afternoon, lounging by the pool and just basking in the luxury of it all.
But, in the end, I knew it was my only chance to see
Dahshur, Memphis and Saqqara on this trip, and I'm glad I went through with my
plan. I had done so much research on these attractions, that it would have
seemed a real pity to have simply omitted them from my final itinerary.
I met the guide in front of the hotel, as planned,
and he flagged down a car he said was his pre-arranged driver. (I have my
doubts, but it didn't really affect anything.) And then we were off!
Dahshur was first on the afternoon agenda. There are
several pyramids of interest here, but hardly any crowds, which makes visiting
a true delight.
One of the main attractions is the Red Pyramid, said
to be Egypt's first true, smooth-sided pyramid, built for the pharaoh Sneferu.
You see, the pharaohs and their architects had been striving for such
perfection for decades, but before this pyramid's completion, they had never
succeeded in constructing a monument in the shape that we now all have come to
call a pyramid. (I saw several of the surviving unsuccessful attempts later.)
Thus, without Sneferu's Red Pyramid paving the way,
his son Khufu could never have ordered the building of his Great Pyramid at
Giza.
It's an unbelievably graceful structure, with its
limestone bricks gently shaded a slightly reddish hue. A vertiginous staircase
leads from the desert sands up to the entry to the passageway of the burial
chamber, about a hundred feet above, but I assure you, that first climb is
nothing compared to what awaits visitors inside!
To actually reach the burial chamber, you have to scale
down a two-hundred and thirty foot slope with ceilings so low I had to crouch
the whole way. Making the journey even more precarious, it's just about as
steep as that exterior staircase had been, except instead of being an actual
staircase, this one's really just a slant with wooden beams spaced about twelve
inches apart to aid your footing!
I'm not going to lie: the descent down was actually
a little stressful, but it gave me a tremendous feeling of adventure.
Eventually, everything opens up to high-ceilinged vaults finally depositing you
into the burial chamber itself. Along the way, there is plenty of charcoal
graffiti to observe, with messages left by some early British visitors back in
the 1830s!
The climb out was even more strenuous than the one
in had been, because, in addition to the steepness of the incline, I now, of
course, had to climb up the two-hundred
and thirty foot sloping path instead of down! Still, I wouldn't have traded the
experience for anything, and in hindsight, my exploration of the Red Pyramid
was easily one of the major highlights of the entire trip. I truly felt like
Indiana Jones.
Just around the corner is the peculiarly-shaped Bent
Pyramid, one of those earlier failed attempts at a pyramid that I mentioned. At
the start of construction, the builders set the incline at fifty-five degrees. But
as progress continued, they realized the whole thing would collapse if they
didn't adjust their measurements. So they re-calibrated things and decided to
continue at a forty-three degree angle instead.
In the end, they made it to the top without the
structure crumbling but were left with a very quirky-looking monument indeed. When
construction was completed around 2600 BC, it seems Sneferu was disappointed in
the end result. He ordered a second pyramid constructed, the Red Pyramid I had
just visited. Thus, most archaeologists have come to the conclusion that nobody—pharaoh or otherwise—was ever actually buried here.
One of the coolest things about the Bent Pyramid is
that almost all of its original white limestone casing has survived to the
present day, giving modern day visitors our best idea of how the Great Pyramids
at Giza would have looked in their prime.
The last pyramid I saw in Dahshur is the
ominously-named Black Pyramid. Unfortunately, you can't really get too close to
this one, but you can view it from the parking area alongside the Bent Pyramid.
Its exterior long-since collapsed, the Black Pyramid is mostly a mound of
rubble with some remaining interior structures poking out from the debris. I
would have liked to have inspected it up close, but at least I got to see it!
Next up was a stop in Memphis, the capital of
Ancient Egypt and said to be one of the world's most cosmopolitan cities during
its heyday. Alas, very little remains of the place, with one glorious—and I mean glorious—exception:
a colossal statue of Ramses II.
Discovered laying face-down in mud
in 1820, the forty-foot long statue is incredibly detailed and remarkably
well-preserved. The museum in Memphis has been built around the statue, and
it's designed so that you can get both up-close to appraise its intricacies but
also far enough away to appreciate its gigantic scale. I spent an overlong
period of time here ogling at the ancient behemoth, encircling the statue at
ground level and then again several times from above.
A small assortment of other statues
placed outside the museum was also very interesting, but noting the dwindling
time remaining, it didn't linger too long, in fear of missing out in Saqqara.
The last of the major attractions I
saw that day was King Djoser's famous step-pyramid. This was the first known
attempt by the Egyptians to build a pyramid. The king's architect, Imhotep,
devised the idea of placing increasingly smaller mastabas atop one another. Djoser's successors improved upon the
idea, leading to the Bent Pyramid, the Red Pyramid, and, finally, the Great
Pyramid. So, in a way, it's all thanks to Imhotep.
We spent some time wandering around
the other sights of Saqqara, and I would have loved to have spent many hours
there. But it was already closing time. The Imhotep Museum had shut down before
our arrival, so I didn't have the opportunity to go inside, but a few of the
other attractions were still open for me to take a quick peek.
My guide and driver dropped me off
back at the Mena House, where I tracked down Courtney, who had had a leisurely
afternoon. We filled each other in on our assorted adventures, mine of sand and
dust and pyramids, and hers of poolside lounges and ice teas and salads. I'll
take the former any day!
We had a glorious hookah in the
outdoor lounge, complete with a new beer brand I hadn't tried yet: Sakara Gold,
complete with its step-pyramid logo! As the sun set and the twinkling lights
all over the grounds of the hotel illuminated, Courtney and I puffed away on our
pipe and chatted endlessly.
Eventually, full darkness descended,
the Mena House all immaculately spotlit and glistening, the pyramids now black shadows faded
into the night. My original plan had been to stay for one night only, but I'm
so glad we splurged and stuck around for two! The Mena House is truly a very
special place.
We had perhaps my favorite dinner of
the trip that night, at Andrea, a roast-chicken restaurant in New Giza.
Complete with stuffed grape leaves, tahina, and hot, fresh pita bread straight
from the outdoor ovens, the meal was a sensation. Overlooking the lights of New
Giza from our mountaintop perch, mulling over the wonders of the ancient world
I had explored earlier, I had to rank this one of the all-time great days of my
life.
Having failed to explore the interior of the Great
Pyramid the day before due to the line, I set an early alarm for the next
morning. Courtney, again, had no interest in joining me on my adventure. She intended
sleep late and enjoy an unhurried breakfast at the hotel lounge. I decided that
there was no way I was skipping out on going to the center of one of the
world's most famous structures.
It was actually good that she'd be sticking around
the hotel that morning, because later, after check-out, we'd be heading to the
Fayoum Oasis, a drive of about an hour and a half. I gave Courtney one task
before we went to sleep that night: to arrange for someone at the Mena House to
help us book an transport from our current hotel to our next one. You see, in Egypt, it's a fairly common practice for your hotel concierge to order an Uber on his own account, selecting "pay cash on arrival" as the payment method, thus allowing tourists to utilize the popular service. "Sure, no
problem. I'll take care of that," she assured me.
Silently sneaking out of the room that next morning,
I purchased the day's first ticket to enter the immense monument and was the
only sightseer there when I set foot inside. Remembering the long, snaking line
of waiting tourists standing in the Giza heat the day before, I couldn't help
thinking this was a much safer bet.
Having the pyramid all the myself until shortly
before exiting—when a friendly American couple
came in and offered to take a photo for me—was surreal. But there I was,
standing in the center of Khufu's burial chamber, where his sarcophagus had
once laid, pondering the weight of the two million-plus stone blocks stacked
above me. Entirely alone!
All in all, it had only taken about
half an hour. It was still only 8:30am, and Courtney probably hadn't woken up
yet. I wasn't sure I wanted to rush back to the hotel—even though it was only
two or three minutes away—so I approached one of the waiting camel drivers,
named Ali. (His camel's name, in case you are wondering, was Bob Marley.)
We made a deal, and he took me all
around the plateau to some phenomenal vantage points we hadn't visited the day
before. Ali was an all-around nice guy, offering a head scarf to shield me from
the morning sun and snapping endless photos in my attempt to get the perfect
pyramid shot. Spoiler alert! In case you missed the lead photograph of this blog entry, I did eventually get the photograph of my globetrotting dreams, though there were many epic fails—like the one below—along the way.
At one point, we stopped at a camel
lounge where about a hundred of the creatures were resting or chowing down on
grass, with the pyramids to one side and the desert rolling on endlessly to the
other. That morning was such a lovely, relaxed alternative to the horseback
adventure of the previous day, and combined, they offered such different
perspectives on the same sights. Why anyone would limit their pyramid time to a
single day is beyond me. These attractions demand prolonged contact to let
their full grandeur and mystery soak in.
The trip was just flying by too
fast, but it was chock full of sensational moments. Even the brief time spent
checking out of the Mena House that morning was wonderful. Courtney had
organized our Uber as planned, so we were all set to go. There was just one
thing I still wanted to see. I had read that two of the famous guestrooms in
the main building—the Churchill and Montgomery Suites—were open to visitors as
long they weren't occupied, so we asked at the front desk if we could pop in
for a gander.
"I'm so sorry, Mr.
Parisi," the clerk informed us, "but that section of the Mena House
is under renovation right now and is not accessible."
A few moments later, there was a
discreet tap on my shoulder. "Psst... You want to see the Churchill
Suite?" another staff member asked. "Follow me!"
He led Courtney and I up and down
random corridors, sidling past potted plants that had been placed so as to
cordon off walkways. And then he pointed to a door, saying, "Wait here for
me."
He disappeared out a window, snuck into the room from the balcony, and emerged
at the door, ushering us in to the Churchill Suite. The bed was like something
out of an old screwball comedy, the kind of place Myrna Loy or Claudette Colbert would sleep, probably designed by Cedric Gibbons or Hans Dreier.
I even posed for a photo at the
handsome writing desk, with a black-and-white portrait of the suite's namesake
guest hanging over it.
The neighboring Montgomery Suite,
named after General Bernard Montgomery, was equally lavish, and Courtney took a
moment to pose on the bed, which was even more sumptuous than the one in the Churchill
Suite had been.
Our stay at the Mena House had been
stellar from top to bottom, and this was a very memorable way to see it off. We
gave our hero guide a small baksheesh,
for a job well-done.
Then it was off to the Fayoum, a
place I was very eager to visit! Unfortunately, the journey from Giza did not
go at all according to plan, and it was the only point of the entire trip where
things verged on disaster. Once we finally arrived, Courtney, who is quite a
funny raconteur, drafted her own account of the voyage for a blog she is
planning to launch. I think I'll let her perspective and storytelling skills
step in here to tell you the story:
We said our goodbyes to the Mena House
and trustingly got into our Uber. When the driver began to proceed down toward
the gate, however, he asked us where we were going.
“To the airport?”
“Uhhh, no,” we replied.
“To Fayoum?” he ventured a guess.
“Yes.” Paul and I gave each other an
uneasy look and began to speculate that we were not, in fact, in an Uber.
Despite our disappointment in the employee
who had lied to us about ordering an Uber, we didn’t mention anything to our
driver as we seemed to be going the right way. All signs indicated we were
headed in the direction we were supposed to and there was little traffic, so we
were pleased. We passed a hotel Paul recognized that was known for its
historical significance but little else, apparently it had lost its appeal all
but for a drink or meal. We knew we were heading the right way as we drove
along the brackish lake and figured we would shortly be at our destination, but
as fate would have it we were in for a treat.
Our driver had until now little reason to
listen to a GPS, after all how hard could it be to follow highway signs? But
now it seemed there was need for directions. As the GPS began to instruct our
driver things began to go terribly wrong. We turned off the main road along the
lake into a semi-inhabited area, this looked OK to us, until he made another
turn down a dirt road which Paul and I knew did not look quite right. Despite
this we decided not to mention anything, thinking that this could perhaps be
the “shortest route” or an off road short cut, Unfortunately this was definitely
not the case.
We kept driving deeper into the crops of the
oasis. The road, if you can call it that, was made of dirt and just barely wide
enough for our taxi. We passed houses, we passed houses under construction, we
passed what seemed like small towns and they all had one thing in common,
locals who looked at us with bewilderment. This wasn’t anything new for this
trip, as we seemed to have attracted attention anywhere we went, so we didn’t
think much of it or we simply gave them a friendly wave. When we reached a dead
end, which happened to be a field, the driver grunted and groaned and consulted
the GPS on his phone. Paul and I, at this point, could only laugh at the
situation and suggest that perhaps he should call the hotel.
This apparently fell on deaf ears, so I
decided it was high time to step out into the hot Egyptian sun and have a
cigarette. Upon leaving the vehicle I turned around only to see two men on a
motorcycle speaking in Arabic to me. I quickly jumped back into the car.“Paul, there is a motor cycle behind us,” I
whispered. “I think they want to get by.”
At this point one of the men on the motor
cycle appeared at the window to give our driver some sort of instruction. We
were definitely lost and they had come to rescue us or at least tell us to get
out of their field. After their chat, we made a rather terrifying three point
turn that almost landed us in a ditch and headed back exactly the way we had
come. We passed the same people who had looked at us as if we were aliens only
moments before, except now they were laughing at us.
Eventually we ended up back on the main road
by the lake: progress. We had already surpassed the estimated time of arrival
we had envisioned, but at least we were back on, seemingly, the right route. At
last, after asking about five people we had come across while driving, we saw a
sign for our eco-lodge. Unfortunately, I could tell simply by driving up to it
that it would not be up to snuff. The road was dirt and the corners nearly
impossible to turn in our car, but we made it.
When one thinks eco-lodge in an oasis, one,
at least I, envision green surroundings, water nearby and basic amenities, this
place was not that. The pool was beginning to foster an ecosystem of its own
and the rooms, well the rooms were mud huts with cots inside. In my new found
sobriety I knew this was not going to cut the mustard, especially since we had
just left an outstanding five star hotel next to the pyramids. I am sure that
my face said it all, but I politely told Paul that we needed to go check out
some other accommodation as I would never be able to fall asleep in such shambles.
Our driver for what was supposed to be a one and a half hour journey was still
with us (note to travellers never pay until the end of the journey), and so we piled
back into the car. Allegedly, there was supposed to be a much nicer hotel just down
the road. We saw the sign for said hotel and took the turn, only to quickly discover
this road led to a pile of bricks.
We reversed down the sandy road, got stuck,
got unstuck and we were back on the main road, yet again. Onward we went to
find accommodation, luckily we saw a sign for the Tunis pottery village that
the apparent nicer hotel would be found in. We made a u-turn and after asking
several people we passed we headed into the village.
Almost as if we were seeing a mirage, an ATM
came into view along with a well-trimmed hedge, I knew that this was our
destiny. Pulling a face at the previous hotel, it looked like, had paid off. We
pulled into the driveway and were ushered through a small corridor to find
truly an oasis, the Lazib Inn Resort and Spa.
For the record, I'd just like to add
that there was nothing about the first accommodation, the eco-lodge, which was
called Zad al-Mosafer, that didn't seem perfect to me. It was simple, to be
sure, but it looked charming and convivial. I even snapped a few photos of it
as we unloaded our bags before Courtney staged her protest.
And as we were only there for one
night—for less than twenty bucks—I certainly would have stayed. Moreover, I
wasn't planning to spend too much time in the hotel anyway. I wanted to explore
the Fayoum as much as possible during our short stay. When I'm fortunate enough
to return to the Fayoum, I'd still like to spend a night here, as long as
Courtney is not my travel companion!
But that being said, the Lazib Inn
was one of the nicest little hotels I've ever stayed in. I knew it was
something special the moment we pulled up. By Egypt standards, it was
super-expensive, costing more than the Windsor and even the Mena House. But it
was luxe all the way, with everything of the highest quality.
The grounds are immaculate, with
only eight secluded cottages peppering green lawns fringed with colorful
flowers, stately palms, modern art and calming infinity pools, all overlooking
the brackish waters of Lake Qarun.
Our suite was blatantly luxurious,
complete with a terrace, fireplace, hung tapestries, a whirlpool tub, and
top-quality toiletries. It was the kind of place where you just wanted to
linger doing nothing for a week.
Of course, my intention was not to
stay in a spa-like retreat that would discourage us from going out to explore
the glories of the Fayoum. But I decided to make lemonade of Princess Courtney's
lemon and relish every minute of the glamour.
So instead of immediately hopping in
a taxi to Wadi al-Hittan, a valley with preserved whale fossils I was really
interested to see, we decided instead to simply visit the nearby village on
Tunis, exploring a fabulous little museum dedicated to political cartoons,
ducking into a few of the pottery studios that put the area on the map, and
stopping for a late afternoon snack of mezze in the shaded courtyard of a
neighboring—but decidedly less posh—resort.
In the end, Wadi al-Hittan didn't
make the cut. But of all the things I had included on the pre-planned itinerary
of this short five day stretch, it wound up being the only item that never came
to fruition. Not a bad track record considering my often overly-optimistic
scheduling!
And with the added misadventures
that accompanied our journey from Giza to the Lazib—and the time-related
repercussions thereof—it was much wiser to simply enjoy the glories of this
incredible corner of the world.
The Lazib arranged for a sunset
feluca ride for us on Lake Qarun, and the timing couldn't have been more
perfect. Our captain, another Ali, also brought his toddler son aboard, and the
tranquil surroundings were out-of-this-world.
I had bought a few Stellas from the
bar at the hotel, and they augmented the
blue-meets-yellow-meets-orange-meets-gold-meets-red-meets-purple-meets-black
progression we slowly watched that evening.
Of course, a place like the Lazib
just had to have a stellar restaurant. Even if we had stayed at Zad al-Mosafer,
I imagine we would have ultimately found our way up here for dinner. Curiously
named the Blue Donkey, the elegant dining room studded with interesting art was
the perfect spot to unwind after the long day.
My stuffed Fayoumi pigeon and Om
Ali—a delicious dessert like a mushy bread pudding that my Egyptian friend from
Villanova, Nancy, had told me I must try at some point on my journey—were both
delicious and memorable.
Back in our suite, I had a quick dip
in our hot tub before sharing a hookah with Courtney on the terrace, laughing
endlessly at the odd course of events we had been through over the past twelve
hours.
Awaking the next morning, it was
painful to realize today would be my last full day in Egypt. It was also
literally painful because this was when the post-horseback aches finally
decided to manifest themselves in my body.
After a morning wander around ever-intriguing
Tunis, and pit stops at my favorite pottery studios to stock up on items I had
been scouring since the previous afternoon, Courtney and I bid a fond farewell
to the friendly staff at the Lazib and hopped in the car we had booked to drive
us back to the Windsor.
And, boy, was it great to get back, where we
selected yet another atmospheric room for our final night in town.
We returned to Islamic Cairo for a delightful al
fresco dinner in Al Azar Park, where we were treated to a stunning sunset and
tasty dishes from the kitchen. Complementing it all was a lovely view over the
Citadel and the innumerable minarets of the quarter.
Courtney and I again linked up with our habibi
Ahmed afterwards, at the moody Horreya, by day a traditional coffee house that
transforms into a hopping beer bar when the sun goes down. It had been on my
list since day one, so I’m glad we worked in a way to visit. And what I wouldn't give to have been able to take one of their carved wooden Stella chairs home with me... Alas!
Although Courtney opted to call it a night owing to
her early morning departure the next day, Ahmed and I went out for further
revelry. We took the Cairo subway a few stations and linked up with a group of
his friends, as we sat on the sidewalk smoking shisha and drinking coffee until
very late in the evening—actually, make that, until very early in the morning.
And we talked and talked and talked. We talked about
Egyptian politics and the revolution and Israel and religion and so many other
topics. Here was a group of friends, Muslims and Christians together, talking
openly and spiritedly about topics of which they were clearly very knowledgeable
and passionate.
So, I spent a great deal of time listening, too, and
learning. By the time Ahmed and one of his friends drove me back to the
Windsor, I was ready to rank that evening’s chat up there with the Pyramids as
one of my fondest memories of my time in the country. I’ll surely never forget
it.
This morning I woke up early to savor my last hours
in Cairo. After a final breakfast in the Barrel Bar, Courtney left for her next
destination, Sharm El Sheikh, and I tracked down the closest Starbucks so I
could add a new City Mug to my collection. A good, long wander along the Nile,
ice coffee in hand, took me back towards the hotel, as I soaked up a city I
know I could easily call home if I ever had the chance. Perhaps unsurprisingly,
try though I did, I just
could not find the Windsor unaided, and ultimately, owing to the time, I had to
find a taxi to get home.
A final tour around the hotel wrapped up the opening
chapter of my introduction to Egypt, as I rode that glorious elevator one more
time, from the rooftop to the lobby, and the helpful staff loaded my luggage in
a taxi and I headed off to the airport. I hope—rather, I know—I will be back
again before too long to explore more of the wonders of this incredible
country. But now, it's wedding time!
