We're Huge in Egypt

This post has been a long time in coming- mostly because I had been planning and looking forward to my trip to Egypt forever, and i have also been back in Jerusalem now for over a week.

Lana and I took two days of school and made a long-weekend trip to visit Cairo. We left Jerusalem in the morning, and picked up more passengers in Tel Aviv. We rode down in a little mini-bus and were surprised to find that most of the passengers were merely using the tour company as a means to get safely to Egypt, but they would not be completing the tour with us. On the bus were two Mormon guys straight from their mission (it's like they follow me!), a woman our age who was studying in Cairo from England, some quasi-creepy Egyptian "diplomat", a Colombian named Adrianne, and an older couple- Jack and Helen. Adrianne was pretty young and totally awesome- Jack and Helen would become our largest ource of irritation- only the three of them would be accompanying Lana and I on the tours once we arrived in Cairo. So we took this mini-bus down to Eilat, stopping once at a milk kibbutz where the bus driver bought me ice cream ( I have no idea how this has happened twice to me) and finally arrived at Taba to cross, which was not problematic. It costs about $15 to get a visa that would suffice for 45 days, and egyptian customs are pretty quick. The group then hopped back aboard a new bus and met our new guide, Muhammad, and driver, Mustafa. Lana and I were, of course, the life of the party, and Muhammad thought we were totally nuts. We calmed down after a bit and the bus began it's long weave through huge pourous mountains and then the Sinai desert. Lana plugged into her i-pod and Muhammad and I began an insightful conversation on Islam before we both drifted off. We woke up long enough to eat at this restaurant in the middle of nowhere in the Sinai that was covered in flies and offered the most creative toilets I have ever seen. They insisted on feeding us chicken and rice and then monetarily raping us- thus, beginning a trend.

Now, the bus company had promised us that it would be about 12 hours from Jerusalem to Cairo. At this point, we were at about 13 hours with no end in sight. Lana and I didn't really care- the ride was interesting and all we had to do was tour the next day, but Jack and Helen were not so optimistic. Helen, a miserable Russian woman began lamenting to her idiot Australian husband " Vy is dis taking soo long, Jaque?"- Thus, also beginning a trend.

When we arrived in Cairo after 18 years of traveling, at nearly 2 am, the highway was completely deadlocked in traffic. There were such amazing things to see as we crawled toward our hotel- beautiful mosques, towering apartments with laundry fluttering, and people waving from other cars. Helen was absolutely irate. We finally got to the hotel- The Indiana. Now, when we arranged the trip, we had asked for a two-star hotel, the lowest. Our travel company said there would be "bugs in the bed" and reccomended a 3-star hotel. We thought we were being taken advantage of, but agreed. Imagine if you will, a hotel decorated like a really bad Chinese Restaurant, and that's what we had. The bathroom curtain stuck to your butt while showering for reasons unknown, the lime-green pants peeled off of the tub in between your toes, the tv was broken (not a problem, really), and then the air condition broke (big problem). There also were definitely bugs in the bed, as exhibited by the bite marks on our limbs each morning. The continental breakfast was given in a vomit-inducing gaudy dining room that made me rub my eyes, assuming it was all a dream sequence. The buffet was an array of stale breads, beans, and cut-up hotdogs spread out while stuffed and rotting flamingos looked on from a perch. All and all, it was pretty funny. The Sheraton may have been nicer, but you have to have something to work up to, and it could never have yielded as much laughter.

When we awoke the first morning, we headed for the outskirts of Cairo, as we drove toward Giza, we got our first shot of the pyramids. Only two are visible from the distnace of the city, and they sort of hover on the outskirts casting a grayish ominous traingular shadow over the mess of croded apartment buildings. We met our tour guide, Michael. At about five-foot even, Michael was the tiniest but dearest man, and quite the egyptologist at that. He was so gentle and kind, and he really liked Lana and I because we loved everything about Egypt and Helen and Jack continued their descent into the horrendous. He really was one of the most good-natured people I have ever met.

Our first stop was to a little museum which features an enormous recovered statue of Ramses II, touted as the best pharaoh in Ancient Egypt, and rumored to be the infamous pharaoh of "let my people go". The statue is laying down, since his feet were badly damaged, but even lying down the statue is so incredibly tall that a second story was built to be able to catch a glimpse of his face. There was a good collection of similar statues built in tribute, including a small sphinx meant to scare people away from his tomb.

Our next stop was to Saqqara to visit the oldest pyramid in Egypt, the step Pyramid. Built in the Third Dynasty, around the 27th century, BC, the pyramid is built in a style that was quickly replaced, but consists on sic successively smaller mastabas. It was built for Djoser by the architect Imhotep. There are celebration grounds all over for the ceremonies that are associated with the unification of upper and lower Egypt. Micahel taught us that the statues put their left foot forward, symbolizing their journey to the afterlife.

We then went to a carpet school to see how local children weave amazing oriental rugs out of silk, and camel hair and wool. School is so expensive and some Egyptians are so poor that parents send their children to schools where they can learn a trade to at least have some skill. The kids start at age 6, which is a little heartbreaking. We gave them candy we had, and they were so curious about us- we even got to try our hand at weaving a silk carpet, which is incredibly complicated. Lana bought a beautiful wool rug featuring the tree of life.

I was so excited about our next stop to a papyrus shop, which continues to make papyrus like their ancient ancestors. I have a vivid memory of my 6th grade teacher, Ms. Anaman passing a very small version around, and I thought it was so exotic and intoxicating. I still really like Egyptian mythology, so I settled on a big (and expensive!) version of the final judgement featuring the heart of the dead being weighed against the feather of truth. I am sure that it is something that I will treasure and that will hang in any home I live. (Don't worry, I also bought some great gifts.)

We ate lunch at a big buffet where the waiters insisted on interrupting me every couple of minutes to do some elaborate and inane magic trip, before charging us an "entertainment tax". They also all wanted photos with Lana and I, thus beginning another thrend.

The next stop was definitely the climax of the entire trip- the Pyramids at Giza! They were far larger than I thought possible and amazingly preserved. It is a series of three great pyramids and several smaller ones for women. the largest was made for Cheops in 2570 BC and is 455.2 feet tall. The second, and my personal favorite, is a bit smaller and was made for Cheops' successor, Khafre. Khafre is thought to be the leader who ordered the building of the Sphinx. His pyramid has a tip that is slightly different; perhaps it was once topped with gold, but no one knows for sure. The last pyramid is pretty small, and is built for Menkaure. We took pictures from a distance and then took a camel ride down a little further. The camel ride will last for my entire life as one of my most perfect "pinch me" moments. I absolutely could not believe what I was seeing, and felt so thrilled and lucky to be seeing it at my age. We then took some time to play around the pyramids, at which point police officers took pictures of us posing with the pyramids before insisting we pay them. That is so crooked. The Sphinx was only a short distance away, and was so beautiful, but much smaller than I thought. There were so many people in front of it and they were angry with me when Lana spent several minutes positioning herself and me so we could get a great photo of me "kissing" the Sphinx.

The day ended with a trip to a perfume factory where we smelled a plethora of scents and drank hibiscus juice. We especially liked "Cleopatra", which the salesman touted as "Egyptian Viagra" (my word!). Lana and I, not feeling that daring (and not feeling like the local men needed any more enticement) settled on "Lotus", which is a really unique scent.

As the Pyramids in Giza faded back into the distance, I kept my eyes on them, vowing to journey back to this wonderful place sooner rather than later.

The tour ended for the day, and Lana and I still full from dinner, struck out on our own, eventually finding 'Sakara' beer which our friends who traveled before us raved about. Crossing Cairo streets is maybe the most dangerous thing to do in the Middle East. There are no cross walks, and that is not just hyperbole, there are NO crosswalks. You just put a hand up and dodge, which was fine. There are also absolutely no women on the streets, which was weird. We made our way back to our hotel and fell asleep after slumber party-esque chatter.

The next morning, we met Michael and headed to the Egyptian Museum which features the Pharaonic Period. I had recently studied the museum in class, as it is a stunning example of both colonialism and nationalism. The museum pays homage to mostly western Egyptologists and was founded in 1902, still riding the waves of Napolean's pursuit of the Description D'Egypt. I am angered that the Rosetta stone and similar finds were taken by colonialist hands to foreign countries, despite laws that outlaw such treachery, yet seeing the museum does raise some questions about who best preserves history. The museum is one of the most poorly curated museums of all time. Had we not had a guide, we would have had absolutely no clue as to what anything was, as their are no placards. Glass cabinets were placed in front of one another and cluttered with objects, all in poor lighting. There are huge wooden crates everywhere, as if they are still emptying out the contents of King Tut's tomb. The stairway featuring ancient papyrus, featured, upon closer examination, the papyrus scotch-taped into their frames. I think antiquities should stay within the countries that begat them, and yet, a small voice was screaming that all of this could be better preserved. We still thoroughly enjoyed everything we saw, especially a series of nesting boxes that housed the canopic jars of King Tut. (I was so pleased that I remembered canopic jars by name, and so was Michael- yayy to sixth grade!)

We drove to the older part of Cairo next, where we visited the amazing "Hanging Church" where the Holy Family lived for a hort time. The church precedes Islam but is a perfect example of Islamic art, done for a Christian reverie, which is strange. The wood rafters are meant to give the feeling of being in Noah's Ark, and the detail and mother-of-pearl inlaid doors are mystifying. The next stop was a synagogue (no longer in use, as there are less than 100 Jews left in Cairo), but so beautiful. The Ark was exquisite, and the ceilings were incredibly ornate. The last religious site in our survey of the monotheistic faiths, The Muhammad 'Ali Mosque, is situated in the Citadel, which took us next to an enormous alabaster quarry where the materials for the Sphinx had been dug. The mosque was built under the orders of Muhammad 'Ali Pasha from 1820-1848 as a tribute to his son who dies in 1816. It is the largest Ottoman mosque built in the first part of the 19th century. Muhammad 'Ali is entombed there, despite that being against Muslim law. The architecture of the mosque far surpassed the church and synagogue, which i suppose is appropriate. It has a huge central dome, twin minarets, 4 smaller and 4 semicircular domes flank the large one. The view of the domes from the inside is so amazing, because they are so heavily decorated. A huge chandelier that invoked 'The Phaaaaaannnnntom of the Opeeerrrraaaa is here..." in me hangs in the center, surrounded by about a hundred glass orbs lit up. The entire floor is strewn with oriental rugs upon which dozens of tour groups splay out in order to lean back on their elbows and take in the scene above.

We ended the day in a bazaar where we ate overpriced (but delicious) falafel and then shopped. I did some of my best bargaining, securing my Gramma the prettiest alabaster vase ever, for roughly the price of a soda. The shopping trip was only made stressful by the fact that the shopkeepers kept touching us and yelling ridiculous things at us like "Magical eyes", "I like your back" (I think that means 'butt'), "I like your size" (?!!!) and the like. My favorite reaction was the yelled "OH MY GOD!" followed by a pantomimed heart attack. Charming.

We headed back early, which was lucky, since we were about to kill Jack and Helen. we snuck in a nap before heading to a beautiful dinner overlooking the Nile where Lana bought us a bottle of great Egyptian wine. We also checked out a supermarket on the way back, which is a great way to gain insight into any culture. We sampled some of the local goods as we headed back to the Indiana. Upon entering, we decided to head to the 'Coffee Shop', where we heard the hopeful sounds of a television. Inside were about 15 men, who, as soon as they saw us, truned off the soccer game they were watching and circled chairs around us in about 0.26 seconds. They demanded we sit and laughed when we did so immediately. They clamored over one another asking us 74197545757 different questions. It was so interesting to talk to them, but after about 8 minutes, the manager of the hotel came in red-faced and demanded we leave immediately to our rooms. We found out later that in Arab countries, Coffee Shops are purely the domain of men.

The next day we headed out early and gaped at the Sahara as we neared Israel. Most of you know we were detained at the border for about 8 hours and finally arrived in Jerusalem about 24 hours later with a gastrointestinal infection that plagued us for the next 5 days, but I prefer not to dwell on these unfortunate factors, and would do it all again. Being detained resulted in an amazing new friend, and the parasite bonded Lana and I in a way I never thought possible.

Vote for Petra!

So, I have a lot to post and even more homework to do, but you see now what my priorities are. I'm worried that if I don't post soon I'll get behind because I just went to Jordan and am on my way to Egypt, and if I had to come back to writing about both, it would seem insurmountable and I would probably give up.

So, I really wanted to go to Petra, but I couldn't commit because of the lack of funds and lack of time to wrap up the semester. So i talked to my parents, who are fabulous, and they agreed to give me an early birthday present (5 months early!) in the form of funds, and encouraged me to go. As far as the latter concern, who am I kidding? Am I here to go to school or to get the bigger education? So I threw working on final papers to the wind and decided to get on down to Jordan.

So my friend Molly and I hopped on a bus to Eilat in order to cross the border to Jordan. We stayed at an awesome little hostel called Corinne, and joked that we had been given the "honeymoon suite" because it was really cozy. The bathroom was also interesting. I was so stoked to have a "private shower"- unusual as far as hostels go. But upon opening the door I thought "Where is the shower?" Then I saw it- a hand held fixture and some knobs on the wall, and a drain in the center of the floor. So the miniscule bathroom pretty much was the shower. A curtian/door is not a necessity, it turns out. The plus side is that you can brush your teeth wherever you like- what are you going to do, get toothpaste on the floor?

Probably the funniest part of the trip occurred before we even got to Jordan. Most of you reading this probably know that when i go places for an extended period of time, I bring my sock monkey, creatively named "Monk Monk" as my most important facet of housewarming. My brother made him for me when I was about 9 and he is pretty important. I know i am far too old for this, but Monk Monk has always contributed a sense of comfort in foreign lands that nothing else can conjure. He has developed sort of a cult following among my friends here, and the night before our trip, we were all sitting around smoking hookah and eating sunflower seeds (pretty much every Wednesday night here) when i was asked who would get custody of Monk monk while I was away, since I never bring him on small trips- the risk of losing him is too great. Molly insisted I take him, and I relented. So he rode along in my backpack to Eilat. As soon as we got into the hostel, Molly informed me that my backpack was agape- I was chagrined, thinking a library book had fallen out, only to be horrified after Molly asked after Monk Monk. We tore out of the hostile as I felt tears welling up - who wouldn't take such a cute monkey? So we re-traced our steps (at about 10pm in 95 degree heat) until I came to an intersection where Monk Monk (barely recognizeable) lay face-down, legs sprawled, and a good deal flatter, in the middle of the road. The poor dear had been run over, as exhibited by a single tread mark running diagnolly over his face. Needless to say, he will not be accompanying me to Egypt.

So after some falafel and a night spent with Monk Monk nestled safely under the covers, we awoke early the next morning to taxi the small distance to the Jordanian border by the time it opened at 8 am. It opened late, in pure Israeli form, and Molly and I were smushed between a Russian tour group and an Israeli one. We paid the 67 NIS boredr tax, were greatly scrutinized, and then allowed to walk the 1 km of no man's land to the Jordanian side, where they did roughly the same thing, just in Arabic. The second-funniest moment came when i handed over my passport. You see, my passport lives in infamy as the worst passport photo ever taken. It in no way even resembles me, let alone flatters me. The Jordanian customs official let out a distinguishable gasp, shook his head at me and rubbed his eyes for a good two minutes before chuckling for another 5 and finally handing it over. Welcome to Jordan.

We grabbed a cab, expecting just to be taken to Aqaba where we would have to get another cab to make the trek to Petra, but the driver offered to switch to a better car, take us to Petra, and back again for 65 Dinar, which is probably $80. Done! Jordan was instantly different- distinct boxy architecture and little multi-colored houses squeezed together to form oases in the desert, rugged, porous mountains look on, and there is a haze lying over everything from the dust and sand. There are also an incredible amount of pictures of the King, Abdullah II, who smiles benevolently from just about every surface.

Our driver, Jamaal pointed out some things to us on the way and stopped twise to let us take pictures from mountain tops over looking desert valleys. Along the way was nothing- just desert and small clusters of the same houses, along with the occasional Bedouin and his herd of goats. We had to stop once on the highway to allow such a herd to safely cross the street. Molly had made a sweet trail mix, so we munched on that and jammed to Arabic music.

After about two hours, Jamaal dropped us off at the Visitor's Center and we began the trail. There were tons of people visiting, mostly Arab women in a kaleidiscope of hijab and differing commitment to religiousity. The police officers wear hats with a spike on the top and short britches that harken back to the Ottoman Empire. The women's uniforms have a built-in hijab.

Petra was declared a World Heritage Site in 1986 and is protected be UNESCO. I saw a picture of my advisor, DRD, there about a year ago and had been dying to go ever since. Ancient Petra is the 50 km leftover remnants of a town inhabited by both Nabaetans and then Romans, and is made up of mostly tombs dating back to the 6th century BC. It may be mentioned in the Old Testament as "Sela" and in the Arab tradition, it is the place where Moses struck the rock to bring forth water, and where his sister, Miriam, is buried. At the start of the walk, only a few djinn (ghost tombs) stare down, lonely, from the mountains. Then we entered the siq- a rock-cut channel that runs for 1.5 km, with 200m high walls of shorn rock on each side. The sheer size of the rock makes you feel as if you're walking in an earthquake's fissure. The walls throw shadows on the niches that once held icons that were meant to hex unwelcome guests. they seem to have done a good job, as the city was "lost" for nearly 700 years- its whereabouts protected by a Bedouin tribe until a Swiss explorer conned them into revealing it. It's also the site of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

The end of the siq is quite honestly the most beautiful and intriguing site that I have ever laid eyes on. All of a sudden, a distinct image floats into view in the gap at the end of the siq, revealing a cascade of orange light and beautifully carved stone. Immediately ahead is the Khazneh, Treasury, the best preserved of all of the buildings at petra. Intricate and impossibly intricate, it is a huge building carved out of a mountain. The stone, multi-colored and dynamic, is a rosy pink in morning, then orange, dusty terra-cota and tan by afternoon, and blood-red as eveing falls. Its sheer magnitude is enough to render one speechless, but it also offers such a startling comparison in it's manmade beauty to the stark, unhewn beauty of the siq. There are bullet holes visible of a scullpted urn. It was thought to hold Pharaonic treasures, so many an ancient people gave it a try. A squal of people, camels, donkeys, and carts pulled by horses all mix around the outside. We spent a lot of time just looking, mouths agape, before stopping in a high cave to picnic and then moving on.

We then took part in one of the many hikes, climbing up around 600 stairs (Dad, it was totally Dipsey, but no one was there to carry me!) to get a better view of more of Petra. The Royal Tombs of Jabal Khuthba peek out, looking like a mix between the pueblos of our text books and broken teeth in the mouth of the mountain.

Next on the list was the Theatre- rebuilt by the Romans and restored now to its 2nd century appearance. It seats around 7,000 spectators. The rest of the trip was made up of the leftover facets of the ancient city- the Urn Tomb, two amazingly carved churches, and a huge temple being excavated by Brown University. Even the columns lining the Main Street remain, everything is just a bit shorn, which is fine- were it as grand as it once was, I would have had a heart attack, it is so beautiful in its current disarray.

The mix of people was amazing- tourists from all over, Bedouins driving goats and selling silver.

The architecture was clearly the draw, and has the benefit of having been built by the ingenious Nabaetans and then rebuilt by the best engineers- the Romans.

I grabbed a super-cheesy t-shirt on my way up before meeting up with Jamaal and climbing back into the cab. Most of the site took us about 5 hours to look at, but were it not for the heat, I would have stayed for weeks (and you could!). As we wove back through the new Petra, a cute little village, Jamaal stopped to get himself some water- and came back with pistachio ice cream for Molly and I- best driver ever! We parted at Aqaba and headed back to Jersualem the next evening.

It was a wonderful trip and I am so lucky I got to go.

The photo above is of the Treasury!

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