Walk Like an Egyptian

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!