Florence

Florence really proved to be everything it was rumored to be. There are certain places that you almost expect to let you down, simply because they are built up so dramatically - and I was half-afraid that Florence would prove to be one of those instances where the reputation would out-strip the reality. Instead, it was absoutely amazing. I know I've made this point before, but I still contend that the Europeans are simply far more sane than we are. They just seem to "get it" in a way that we don't - they own less and spend more time on travel and actually use their vacation time. The Italians, in particular, really seem to value protecting their free time and enjoying as many hours outdoors as possible - I don't think I've ever been anyplace that had a more overpowering love of ice cream (there is a shop seemingly on every corner, and really, really good ice cream - well, it looked good from the window as I passed by on the way to get another salad). I had expected Florence to be insanely crowded, but, for the most part, it wasn't nearly as bad as I had feared. I'll talk more about some of the museums I visited later, but even those were fairly easy to get into without a long wait. Anyway, let me post a few pictures and I'll have more specific comments when I get some sleep.

Mall of the Emirates

On the way to Florence I had an insanely short layover in the United Arab Emirates at Dubai. When my passport and credit cards went missing as part of the Great Unpleasantness I had to change my travel plans several times. This was not a problem with Royal Jordanian, which seemed happy with whatever crazy changes came their way. However, the Dubai to Paris to Florence part of the journey was on Air France and they have a complete "you broke it you buy it" approach, so no matter how it played itself out I had to fly through Dubai and then on to Paris/Florence. Initially I had hoped to stay for several days and do some real sight-seeing in the UAE, which is not something I had ever had the chance to do (although I had been through there four times previously). The UAE normally doesn't do much for me, mainly because I'm a historian and there's not much history left in Dubai. That said, I was determined to make up for it this time, but the GU changed that. It was brutally hot when I landed - something around 110-115ish - so my desire to make it back to the Gold Souq went out the window. So, instead, I went over to the insanely posh Mall of the Emirates, which is a great place for people-watching. I don't know if there is anyplace in the Middle East where the clash between old and new is more jarring - you see a lot of folks dressed pretty provocatively - but you also see a lot of men in the traditional Emirati white from head to toe along with women completely covered - all in a gleeming fortress of western consumerism. It's also the place where the inside ski run is located. When you rent your skis they also give you a loaner winter coat - not surprisingly, owning a winter coat is not something you see much of in the Emirates. I have to admit that it was a lot of fun just watching the kids playing in the manufactured snow. For me, however, the biggest thrill was getting a Krispy Kreme donut (it's something that Vermont yankees just don't understand . . .).

In Praise of Shwarma

For the last three and a half years, ever since my first visit to Jordan, I've been eating way too many meals at a little shwarma stand across the street from the University of Jordan. It's in the same row as McDonald's, Burger King, Pizza Hut, Popeye's Chicken, Kentucky Fried Chicken and the local fast food champs, the Chili House and Lebani Snacks. Despite the competition it continues to flourish. It's still a hole in the wall, but it's a much nicer hole in the wall now. It's located right on a sidewalk and that's where its two tables reside, right next to the glass-front refrigerators where the canned drinks are stored. It's also much more regimented - as late as last year when Bob Mayer, Rob Williams and I went there the cost of a meal would seem to vary depending upon the owner's mood (he's the one in the center of the middle shot as he's walking out of the back) - now the cost remains the same all the day (which makes it easier to plan, but has taken a bit of the charm away). On that visit Rob and Bob and I decided to have a competition to see who could eat the most shwarma - I left them bruised and destroyed. The menu has also expanded. When I first started eating here your two choices were big shwarma or little shwarma. Now they have hamburgers and fries and all sorts of other western-influenced edibles. The centerpiece of the menu, however, remains the shwarma. I'm not certain what is in it, and I don't really think I want to know. There is spicey meat - I think it's chicken, although sometimes little bites taste like beef, but I suppose goat is a possibility although I doubt it - I know it's not pork, obviously - and a pickle in a wrap. Now that the menu has expanded I have #8, no fries, and a 7-Up. It only costs 1.2 JD (about $1.50) and is about a third of what it costs to eat at the more western style competitors.

On a sad note, the Grill House, where Bob and Rob and I had hamburgers and were comped with the worst onion rings I've ever had in my entire life, has gone out of business - another victim of the shwarma monopoly.

"No problem, what you wish"

These are words that you never want to hear from a taxi driver in the Middle East. They sound so friendly and supportive, but nothing good usually ever comes from it. The words "no problem, what you wish" usually come in response to the question "how much?", as in, how much to such and such a location? Taking a taxi varies dramatically in different parts of the Middle East. In Egypt, for example, every taxi has a meter but it is never turned on, which means that you have to agree upon a price before you ever take off - and never take off unless you've agreed upon a price. If you don't get a firm price then just don't get in the taxi - or get out of it if you're already in. When I arrived in Alexandria I was greeted with those magic words at the airport but I was too tired to fight about it, and I didn't know Alexandria, and the taxi driver's English was great, but it turned into a fairly expensive cab ride (although still less expensive than taking a taxi from the Burlington Airport to Shelburne). Still, I should have known better - that and the fact that he tried to sell me a mobile phone while we were driving to the Sofitel Cecil Hotel. At the same time, he was charming and shared his tea with me as we drove and we had a nice chat so I was fine with the experience. Your hotel is usually a pretty good guide in regards to what you should pay (and always be sure to grab one of their cards that give instructions back to the hotel in Arabic - and, before you go, ask them to write out instructions to where you're visiting in Arabic). That said, I don't think I've ever actually managed to get the taxi driver to agree to the fee that the hotel folks defined as the absolute maximum (mainly because, obviously, there are different fares for locals and for visitors). Still, it gives you a general framework for haggling. On the other hand, all the taxis in Jordan have meters and they use them, and if they take off without clicking on the meter just tap it with your finger and say meter, and they will turn it on - or, if they don't turn it on, once again, just get out of the taxi and pay them nothing. The one thing in Jordan is that the minimum fare, what pops up on the meter when it is turned on, seems to vary - sometimes it is 150 fils (15% of a Jordanian dinar) and sometimes it is 250 fils (the Jordanian equivalent of a quarter - or around 30 cents US). I used to think that the 250 rate was evening and the 150 rate was day rate, but it tends to fluctuate back and forth randomly (so I'm not even certain that it is a visiting American vs. local rate). Generally I've had nothing but great experiences in taxis - just don't expect them to drive like sane people (especially in Cairo, although my time in India has insured that no bit of driving lunacy will even cause me to look up). I've had taxi drivers in Amman help me with my English - one driver in Amman pulled over until I proved to him that I was able to say University of Jordan in Arabic (he was afraid that I'd get lost - it sounds something like Jaamma Ordineeaa) and a driver in Cairo who taught me the Arabic words for left (sounds like shamaal), right (sounds like ameen) and straight (sounds like alatool). This morning was a good example of the mixed bag of taking taxis. I caught a taxi to go the UPS office (my last credit card arrived - hamdil'allah hamdil'allah!!!). The driver, who I think was Egyptian, wore a traditional long white robe and an embroidered cap and, once we started, began to quietly sing a beautiful, and what I considered to be religious, song. It was really remarkably pleasant and even a little emotional because of its understated beauty. I gave him a big tip, just for the experience. After stopping at UPS I grabbed another taxi and he was a little hesitant to click on the meter. Even after he clicked it on (at 250) he said, "no meter." So, I asked, "how much?" He said (wait for it) "no problem what you wish." Of course, it is never what you wish - although I did pay a taxi driver in Alexandria what I wished because of his refusal to name a price and he, oddly, accepted it, albeit glumly. I said "one JD", which was too low, but I wanted to see where this would go. He said, "higher." I said "one and a half JD", which is what I paid on the way there. He said, "no, higher," and I just told him to stop. He said, "meter, meter", but I just opened the car door while we were driving - which was overly theatrical of me, but I also wanted him to know that the negotiations were over - and he pulled over and I got out and gave him nothing. I walked a couple blocks and grabbed another cab and, without asking, he clicked on the meter, took me where I wanted to go, and offered to share his coffee with me.

Amman International Hotel

Like I said in an earlier post I'm staying at the Amman International Hotel, which is a first for me because I've always stayed at ACOR (which means I've spent something like a month and a half there over the last few years). This hotel is pretty nice and not terribly expensive - and air-conditioned, which ACOR is not. It also has the coldest pool in the world. I can see why you might want to pump in some cold water in the morning because the weather is so hot, but it's more than that - the water is arctic. Yesterday I thought I'd sit out by the pool, mainly in the shade, read the paper, grab a small amount of sun, and then go swimming. All went well, except that when I jumped in the pool I basically landed and then jumped right out (you could measure the entire immersion in nanoseconds) - it's like Lake Champlain cold. It may well be that the pool is just designed to be mainly ornamental because there is a little bridge over it and I think there may be a wedding here every night - I can hear the Arabic techno dance music blaring through the wall even as I type. While Americans almost universally get married on a Saturday, and while Jordanian would prefer a Thursday or Friday, they will also get married just about any night when they can reserve a good location. I was sitting downstairs tonight having a club sandwich when the wedding erupted - and the weddings here are every bit as big and out of control as weddings in the U.S. This one started, as many do here, with a rental military drum band that greets the wedded couple as they come in the door. It is pretty spectacular. From what the waiter told me there are actually two wedding ceremonies going on here tonight, or at least one wedding reception and one bridal shower, and the hotel just isn't that big. Anyway, it's definitely a good place to stay and the staff (with the exception of a basic inability to sign for UPS packages) is really great.

The Chili House

OK, this will generate some consternation from my friend Bob Mayer so let's hope he doesn't read this blog entry. There is a fast food restaurant across the street from the University of Jordan called the Chili House. Well, actually, it is all over Amman and Cairo and Damascus, and is coming soon to Jeddah, Dubai and Manama. The Chili House restaurants serve Cincinnati style chili, which is near and dear to my heart because I essentially grew up in Cincinnati. If you're used to regular chili (the afore-mentioned Bob is from the south so he's horrified by Cincinnati style chili) Cincinnati style chili takes a little while to get used to - it has cinnamon and allspice and is served over noodles with grated cheese on top. It may sound odd, but after the first time you begin to dream about it. Certainly it was a dietary staple of mine during graduate school - there was this great dive bar next to the University of Cincinnati and you would have a few beers there (at least this is what my friends told me), walk across the street to Skyline Chili, grab some food, and then bring it back and eat it at the bar. Apparently the Cincinnati recipe was founded by some Jordanian family who had moved to the area (although I've heard that it was created by a Greek family) and there are several different chains in Cincinnati which have pretty similar chili - I think Skyline is the best. The story behind the Chili House is that a branch of the family moved back to Jordan and started the Chili House chain, although there's also some story about a falling out among the brothers and the founding of a different Jordanian chili parlor and then some epic chili war, but I'm not certain about all that. Anyway, I dragged my friend Bob to the Chili House when he was here last year and was so bitter that after we finished eating (well, I finished eating) I had to take him right outside and buy him a shwarma (more on shwarma later) to make up for it - and not a week has gone by that I haven't heard about the Chili House incident. I took the time this afternoon to grab a three-way at a local Chili House and it was good, no matter what Bob says. I had the number one, which is a drink, a three-way and what would in Cincinnati be called a Skyliner (a hot dog with chili and cheese - although the Chili House version doesn't hold up very well, mainly because it's not really a hot dog, for the obvious reasons).

Middle Eastern Hospitality

I've talked about this before so I won't spend much time on the subject, but it really is amazing the extraordinary sense of hospitality that a visitor feels in the Middle East. The standard line here is that if you drop in unexpectedly to stay at someone's house they can't even ask you why you're there until the end of the third day - you can still stay, they'd just like to know why you stopped by. I've heard it repeated so often that it may just qualify as an urban legend, but after making so many visits here I tend to believe it. Here at the Amman International I've been befriended by the front desk guy, Ahmad, who works the night shift. He first made friends with my colleague Al Capone (or, as I've renamed him, al-Capone, to give him a more Arabic feel) because of a Seattle connection - al-Capone grew up there and Ahmad sort of went to university there for four years. He's been wonderfully helpful during my time of need as I try to get credit cards replaced. One actually showed up yesterday via FedEx (who knew that "overnighting" took a week) but the other one, coming via UPS, never made it. According to the UPS website an attempt was made to deliver it to the front desk of the hotel at 6:15 p.m. last night but no one would sign for it. We're still trying to figure that one out, with the two main theories being that the woman behind the counter had a brain-cramp (because I had stopped by five times to remind them I was expecting a second package) or the delivery guy just didn't feel like coming in because it was already after hours. The message at the site stated that it would be delivered on the next business day, and then threw in the line that a delivery on Saturday was not guaranteed. This, of course, opened up the question of what the next business day was - Friday is the holy day in Islam but they also do a lot of business with the US and western Europe - so things were up in the air. Ahmad volunteered, over my objections, to drive me to the UPS office this morning, after working all night, just so we could figure out where it was and what their hours are (as it turns out they are closed today, so we're shooting for early tomorrow, insh'allah). After figuring this out he then insisted, again over my objections, that he take me out for a Starbuck's coffee. I told him that I had to pay because of all his kindness, but he said nicely but firmly that for a Jordanian this was out of the question - I'm his guest and he is responsible for me. So, off we went to Starbucks. By the way, he ordered a frappecino (I had a latte) - I mention this simply because I get a lot of grief from my friends because of my fondness for frappecinos (which are considered a bit wimpy by some of my associates, and it was good to see someone from the coffee-addicted Middle East order the frappecino).

Sweet Home Amman

It's amazing how much better I feel now that I've made it to Amman. Even considering the Great Unpleasantness, I did actually enjoy my time in Egypt. It was an amazing experience, and in a lot of ways having to go through the Bataan death march of getting a new passport - and the more humble tourist adventures brought about by limited financial resources - gave me a much richer, and maybe more realistic, picture of life in Egypt. I would definitely go back to Egypt - and considering the enthusiasm for the GMs shown by the American University in Cairo and Alexandria University I suspect I will. That said, I felt very good getting off the plane in Amman. This has become sort of a second home to me - or maybe third behind India (although I've now visited Jordan more times than I have India) - and I just feel much more secure here. For some reason I'm just much more certain that everything can be worked out now that I have Amman as a central location for organization - and I certainly have a lot more friends here in Jordan. The Jordanians are remarkably warm and supportive folks. I'm staying at the Amman International Hotel (more on that later). Normally I stay at the American Center of Oriental Research (ACOR), but there were no rooms at the inn this time around. I suppose it's just as well because it would help to have someone at the front desk twenty-four hours a day when it comes to issues such as FedEx deliveries, etc. ACOR is great, but everyone goes home around 4:00 or 5:00 and sometimes it's tough to even get a phone call in - the phone will just ring downstairs and if someone is around they might answer and might even track the person down (again, it's very much a large dorm for nerds, which has its own appeal). The University of Jordan contacted the hotel and guaranteed my stay so that helped out a lot (and reaffirmed my faith in Jordan). It's funny how warm I feel about Jordan. I tell the story - and I'll be honest about it even though I'm a little embarrassed to admit it now - but I can remember that on my first trip to Jordan, which was for a three week Council of Independent Colleges seminar on Middle East culture supported by a state department grant (late December 2004 into January 2005) I was actually a tad nervous about the trip. Because of travel problems (I actually always have travel problems, but I just never let them stop me) I arrived essentially a day late and at 2:00 a.m. I didn't know where ACOR was and didn't think that there would actually be a driver waiting - but, hamdil'allah, there he was. We took off into the night and made it to ACOR in around a half-hour - and was greeted at the gate by the guard with the machine gun. I found my little key for my room in an envelope left by the mailboxes, dropped off my suitcase, and then went exploring the building to find the best place to hide in case of a terrorist attack. Within about twenty-four hours I realized how ridiculous that feeling was, and the memory now makes me smile (and wince). It's, however, one of those teachable moments because if I had that moment of unease - and I'm a historian and knew a fair bit about the Middle East before I ever made my first trip here - then you can imagine what the average American thinks about the Middle East when they watch the corrupted, if not intentionally biased, coverage of it on the nightly news every night. Anyway, I'm in Amman and feel a lot better.

Whirling Dervishes

Well, sort of Whirling Dervishes, I suspect. One of the things that you can do in the Khan al-Khalili market is to see a Whirling Dervish show three nights a week. It's free, which I suspect has something to do with getting even more folks downtown to the market. The Whirling Dervishes are traditionally practitioners of the Sufi branch of Islam, which is a mystic approach that I've always appreciated. The Sufis often made the more mainstream Muslims a little nervous because the Sufis cared much less about the rigid rules of the faith and more about a joyous union with Allah. Ironically, considering the slight unease that they engendered with some Muslims, but also logically, this made them great missionaries for spreading the faith. Some of my favorite writers such as Jaladin Rumi or Omar Khayyam are in the Sufi tradition (and I even tortured my sister Beth by reading passages from Rumi at her wedding). When you're looking for the Whirling Dervish performance at the Khan al-Khalili you're better off just saying "Sufi" rather than "Dervish" to a local - they will point you directly there. I'm not really certain if the dancers at the Khan al-Khalili are actually Sufis, and, in fact, I suspect that they probably aren't, mainly because a true Sufi mystic would probably view a tourist-driven performance as a bit much (although they are also known for being very tolerent so who knows). For a true Sufi the spinning is part of giving up attachments to this world and finding a mystical union with god beyond logic or the constraints of this world. In that way I guess they are sort of like the Shakers or maybe some of the more evangelical southern US churches. Whether or not these folks are actual Sufis it was a great performance if nothing else. It went on for an hour and a half. The first half-hour was music, then one Dervish who spun around for a half-hour straight, and then three Dervishes together. The leader of the troup seemed to be an older guy who played small, hand-held cymbals (I'll have to look up the exact name) - he was quite the showman and seemed to be having a great time (his picture should be the one at the top). Highly recommended.

Khan al-Khalili

Cairo has a wonderful old market place - well, it's really about three distinctive market places - called Khan al-Khalili. It can be an maddening place - and also a place where you have to watch out for the touts. I've met some nice touts who actually were great to have around - mainly because they could show you obscure little shops, even if you had to pay them. The ones I've met at the Khan al-Khalili would just want a lump sum payment at the end (although getting them to name a specific figure is like pulling teeth - although you'll know it if it is too big or too small). Depending upon how much time they spend with you the equivalent of four or five bucks is probably plenty. In India it was common for these folks, or even taxi drivers who would suggest an interesting shop you might want to visit, would usually get 20% of whatever you bought. I actually asked an Indian taxi driver in Aurangabad if he was going to get the usual 20% and he said yes, and then suddenly seemed shocked, but laughed, that I had caught him. Some of the touts are pretty unpleasant and simply will not say no. I ended up in a pretty unpleasant experience with a guy who, in addition to the fact that he would not go away, threw out the line that I should not be afraid because "he was not a terrorist," which really set me off because it was the worst kind of pandering (sort of like the zinger from the Kenyan tout about racism designed to hit at your liberal guilt). Anyway, these things happen and you just have to ignore them - if you didn't go down to places like Khan al-Khalili because of the chance to running into an annoying character you'd be missing out on so much (and, for that matter, you'd never attend a faculty senate meeting). You will get plenty of opportunity to work on your haggling skills. Now, I'm not a particularly good haggler, and I've known some great one. al-Capone is pretty good. The best I've seen are John Neelankavil and Raj Nambiar, the two folks who run our Mumbai campus - they are scary good (but then if you grow up in India you have to be). John does it by wearing people down. I have this ridiculous floppy hat that has a logo for the Gate of India on it (Michelle has one too). I saw John work on this guy as we were getting ready to get on a boat to go out to Elephanta Island and by the end I was begging John to stop. John had the guy down to 90 cents a hat and was continuing to pound away. I begged him to stop and John wanted to know if we were paying too much - I told him the same hat would go for $17 at Disneyland and he seemed a little more pleased. Raj does it by confusing the merchant through a meandering series of negotiations and stories - he'll throw out a figure that the merchant says no to, and then starts telling a joke, and then says something like, "so, we agreed upon . . ." and say the last thing he said (even though the merchant had already said no). It seems ridiculous but it worked about half the time. My usual approach is to offer 30% of whatever they suggested as a price and never go over a half (although it doesn't always work). That said, sometimes their initial offer is so high (especialy if they know you are from the U.S.) you can't accept that. When I was in Khan al-Khalili I was looking at buying a khafiya and the band that holds it in place. The merchant's initial price quote was 120 Egyptian pounds, which just made me laugh. I told him that I had bought them several times in Amman and had never paid over 3 Jordanian dinars (around four dollars) for the pair, which led to a discussion about the inferiority of Jordanian products yadda yadda yadda. He said, "OK, what is your offer?" I offered him 15 Egyptian pounds, at which he was mortified beyond all measure and discussed his starving children yadda yadda yadda, and offered 30. I said I might go 20, although the material seemed cheap to me. To this he responded with 25. At that point I thanked him and simply walked out of the store. The key is walking out of the store. Suddenly, and not surprisingly, he replied, "OK, 20, for you, a special price." I was still paying too much, but 20 Egyptian pounds is a lot better than 120 Egyptian pounds, and he he was still making a healthy profit. It's a great place to walk around for hours, even considering the touts.

The Relentless Pursuit of Baksheesh

I've really warmed to Egypt (appropriately so, because it is amazingly hot), but the relentless pursuit of baksheesh does wear on you. Baksheesh, as we've discussed, is that cross between a tip and a bribe that gets brought up a lot by cab drivers or officials or guards or the local touts. That said, it made me think of a couple things. One, it really depends upon where you are. I've spent hours and hours walking the streets of Cairo and was completely left alone. It's when you go into major tourist areas, such as the pyramids, that it kicks into high gear. The point being that you're an American who has decided to spend his princely wealth and you sort of have it coming to you - and, let's face it, as the world's leading military, diplomatic and economic power, the US gets into their pockets far more than they will ever get into ours. So, you can walk through suburbs like Zamalek or downtown areas like central Cairo and essentially be invisible - just steel your resources for the tourist centers. The reality is that most of these folks are so astonishly poor - and we're talking about absolute poverty here, not the inability to get the MLB package on cable - that the extra dollar or two they squeeze out of you means profoundly more to them than to you. Relax (which I'm not always good at doing). Secondly, it's hardly Egypt alone that produces this type of behavior. Usually, it's just an annoyance, but every so often you'll have a bit of a clash (which can usually be avoided if you have a temper less volcanic than mine - meaning everyone on earth can avoid it). I've had a tout in downtown Nairobi accuse me of being an racist because I didn't want to hear his story - which is a classic strategy because it plays into our liberal guilt. When I was in India with my father we had a frustrated donkey driver yell at us, "you're poor and a very bad man," because we didn't want to take a ride - for the Indians, who perceive all Americans as fabulously wealthy, this was the ultimate insult. It's like an Indian taxi driver told me one time when he was trying to royally screw me on a fare (meaning, probably, about 17 cents more than I should have paid, but after a while you just fall into the trap of haggling over everything) - "but you're so big and I'm so small," which means that you're so rich and I'm so poor. And, as much as I like to romanticize India, it was probably a lot worse there.

Coptic Cairo

One of the interesting things about Egypt is the Coptic Church, and though it is centered in Alexandria - the leader of the Coptic faith is the Pope of Alexandria and the Patriarch of All Africa on the Holy See of Saint Mark (it a mouthful of a title) Shenouda III - but there is an entire area of Cairo simply called Coptic Cairo, which I finally made it out to for a visit. The Coptic church has been separated from the Roman Catholic and Greek Orthodox varieties of the Christian world for over fifteen-hundred years. Essentially, they split over differing perceptions of the nature of Jesus, which was a very common bone of contention in the early days of Christianity anyway (the duality of Christ, both human and divine, has caused a lot of argument over the centuries). The Coptic church is usually seen as being monophysite, that is, only focusing on one nature of Jesus, but they claim that it's far more complex (or simple, depending upon which side of the argument you are on) than that and that, in fact, they are not monophysitic at all. Anyway, there are about fifteen million adherents of Coptic Christianity in the world today and a healthy majority of them live in Egypt. They are very important religiously and most of the early practictioners of monasticism were Egyptian - including my all-time favorite Christian saint, St. Simon Stylites - he's the one who went out into the desert and piled up pillars of stone and then he would stand on top of it - and, amazingly (or maybe not so) attracted followers, who sat on their own, albeit smaller, pillars. I know the church was cleaning house a few years ago and there was some talk of stripping St. Simon Stylites of his sainthood, but, I think, cooler heads prevailed and he hung around. Anyway, there is a very long history of Christianity in Egypt. One of the oldest parts of the city of Cairo is Coptic, and there is an amazing museum there. The part of it that really impressed me were artistic representations of Mary suckling the baby Jesus (there were several of them). Obviously, the representation of Mary and Jesus is a very common one in western art, but it is very rare to actually show Mary holding her naked breast to Jesus to suckle. What I found interesting about it is that it clearly is a distant reflection of a common Egyptian artistic motif of Isis holding her breasts for the young Horus to suckle. So much of early Christian thought and iconography is influenced by the Egyptians, most notably the ankh and its similarity to the cross. A lot of the art work dealt with the story of the passage of the holy family through Egypt, not surprisingly. There was a great later painting of the killing of the early church father St. Zachirias, but in the art work the soldier who killed him clearly is portrayed as being Turkish (the story is much older, but the painting was prepared during the 17th century when Egypt was under Ottoman Turkish control) - can't believe the Turks let that one slide by. Less than fifty yards down the road from the museum is the Hanging Church, which is really quite beautiful. One of the advantages of spending the extra time in Cairo is getting to visit more areas and I would definitely have to recommend Coptic Cairo (even if you're not a complete history dweeb).

Beautiful Zamalek

It's amazing how much is packed into the little island suburb of Zamalek. Granted, it's not central Cairo, but there are all sorts of embassies and museums and shops and also the Cairo Tower. It is surrounded by a lovely garden. You can go up in the tower, which doubtless would have provided a lovely view of Cairo, but it was during the Great Unpleasantness so I didn't have the funds. This really is a lovely, shady little respite from the chaos of Cairo.

Faith

I guess as I get older - and, well, I'm really old - I become more and more interested in questions of faith, which is one of the biggest reasons why the junior level Core class that I'm designing based on this Faculty Internationalization Initiative experience will center around Islam (that and the fact that I just think that Americans need to know a lot more about Islam and the Islamic world). While I've travelled to Jordan and the United Arab Emirates several times, as well as Morocco once (and India, for that matter), this was my first visit to Egypt. The differences between the role of Islam here in Egypt and in Jordan and the UAE is amazing. It's not as if those other countries are not devout because they are, but an American visiting Amman or Dubai would not find the experience nearly as jarring as visiting Cairo or Alexandria. That said, there's also a difference between Cairo and Alexandria, just as there would be between those huge cities and a village in the Egyptian countryside. The point is that we in the US tend to view the Islamic world as one huge monolithic entity without any sense of how dramatically different it is around the different corners of that world. When I teach Islam in my Legacy of World Civilization II class I always start off by asking my students which countries in the world have the largest Islamic populations. They usually say Iraq or Saudi Arabia and occasionally one of them will get Egypt, which comes in around number five - following Indonesia, India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. The lesson the students learn is that how can they understand the faith when they don't even know where most of the Muslims live - that is, not in the Middle East, but rather in Southeast Asia. Instead, when someone says Islam the obvious visual image is of Arabia, when it's much more complex than that. What amazes me about Egypt is how prevalent Islam is on a daily basis. You are just much more likely to see men kneeling in the street during public prayer in Egypt than you are in Jordan or the UAE. For that matter, I walked into several shops in the Zamalek neighborhood, which is pretty upper middle class and full of embassies, and almost stumbled across a merchant kneeling on the floor during the daily five prayers. On one of the occasions I had one of those moments of clarity that justify this type of travel - the father and owner of the shop was dressed in traditional garb and was kneeling on the floor praying, while his teenage son was dressed in western style clothes and he was the one who took the money and carried out the sale without seeming to pay any attention to his father.

The Arab Street

When you're watching the news it's very common to hear talking heads talk about what is going on in the "Arab street," that is, what folks are thinking about the world, and especially the U.S., in the Arab world. I would never pretend to be an expert on the Arabic world (I mean, come on, I'm essentially a defrocked Tudor historian), but I've been fortunate enough to spend a lot of time in Jordan and the United Arab Emirates, and have made trips to Egypt, and even far-flung corners of the "Arab" or at least Islamic world such as Morocco or India (largely Hindu, obviously, but there are over 120 million Muslims in India, and I've spent time in Hyderabad, which is mainly Islamic). Beyond the theft in Cairo, and, realistically, that obviously had nothing to do with the fact that I was an American, I've never had a bad experience. People in the Middle East do a much better job than we do in separating American foreign policy from average everyday Americans. Sadly, we tend to lump all Muslims together into this monolithic, and in our minds, lunatic and virulently anti-American core. Yes, there is a lot of anger towards Bush's idiotic and militaristic foreign policy here in the Middle East, but, geez, there is back home in the U.S. as well. Folks in the Middle East tend to like Americans, and not simply because they view us as walking ATMs - I think they still see a shred of the dream that used to be America - of what we always represented in the word (and, hopefully, will again someday). I'm including a picture of a poster I saw in downtown Cairo.

Cairo Opera House

OK, despite my trials and tribulations here in Cairo, Egypt is starting to grow on me. I'm going to post a picture of the Cairo Opera House as soon as I can. It's actually in Zamalek (which I'm starting to get a much better sense of). When I went to the Opera House the actual front door was locked (it was middle of the day), but I just went down a hallway and stumbled right into the Opera House itself. It was very unique with a beautiful fabric ceiling which is essentially open to the heavens. On the same grounds there is also the Museum of Modern Egyptian Art, as well as the Ministry of Culture as well as a couple schools. Artistically you can certainly see the European/American and Arabic and African influences but with a definite Egyptian flair. When I first arrived there everything was essentially closed because it was the middle of the day, and, well, it is only mad dogs and Englishmen (or folks of English-descent) who are out in the noon-day sun. I went to a little shop on the grounds of the museum to grab some water (I think I've had more bottled water on this trip than my entire life leading up to this moment) but the guy behind the counter was washing and didn't hear me come up. We were coming up to the next round of daily prayers and he was preparing for prayer. This also includes thorough washing the ears so that you can hear Allah. One of the security guards noticed me and walked over and sold me the water.

19991

In both Cairo and Alexandria the phone number for McDonalds delivery is 19991. The food is delivered by little motor scooters (painted in McDonalds colors) with lined boxes on the back to keep the food warm. It also includes the alluring words "24 hours", although factoring in Cairo traffic I don't know whether that means they deliver 24 hours a day or they might be able to get the food to you within 24 hours.

Killing Time in Cairo

Rough paraphrase from memory - "There is nothing good or bad that thinking does not make it so" - Hamlet.

One of the advantages of my situation is that it dramatically reduced the stress of making sight-seeing decisions. For example, the quandry over whether or not I want to take a taxi to see the Citadel or the Mohamed Ali Palace is replaced by the much simpler decision of what size bottled water to buy for brushing my teeth (grin). Still, I'm not going to be defeated so I took the opportunity to take very long walks to see what I could reach, which is really a better way to get a feel of a place anyway. Of course, doing it on foot in Cairo in July meant essentially spending a lot of time chasing shade because the head was dreadful. I gained a pretty good sense of Zamalek, which is the suburb where the Hotel Longchamps is located. Zamalek is an island so the Nile flows on both sides of it - and I don't know how many times I crossed over it on various bridges (which was both beautiful because of the view and short-lived because the glaring sun made stopping to enjoy the scenery from the bridge a tad wilting). I was also able to make it into central Cairo and was astonished how easily I was able to reach the Egyptian Museum again (and I think back with a little chagrin at the day that I was "trapped" in downtown Cairo and couldn't get home - if I had had a better sense of Cairo's geography I could have walked home. The Nile was much more beautiful than I guess I thought it would be. It flows peacefully through downtown Cairo and doesn't seem to notice the chaos around it.

I'm alright, I'm alright . . .

. . . to quote Uncle Billy from It's a Wonderful Life. Sorry if I've fallen behind in my blogging. There have been too many chores to get caught up with my life on the other side of the Great Unpleasantness (which is what I've decided to call the theft in Cairo). I'm going to spend a portion of today getting caught up for my two readers (grin). I'll be borrowing from my soon to be finished school blog, and adding some pictures (which makes this a great improvement over the school blog - which, oddly, we paid a lot of money to establish). Still waiting for credit cards, but Worldwide Assistance, a company that we use at Champlain, was able to forward me $1000 (which is 700 Jordanian Dinars) so at least I can grab a schwarma on the street.

The Time of Troubles

Nobody enjoys international travel more than me, obviously, but there are things about it that are both good and bad, and I guess I've read enough Marcus Aurelius to know that I have to let the fleeting things (in this case bad) go. I just wish I had been able to display such a balanced, rational view yesterday during a day that will not go down as one of my best. As most people know I have a pretty volcanic temper and it was right on the edge all day, and there were a couple small eruptions. My travel wallet, which I normally cling to like grim death, and which contained my passport and all my credit cards, was stolen here in Cairo. It actually happened the night before when I left my hotel to go for a short walk and left my wallet not actually hidden in my room, but certainly not sitting out for a public viewing. It disappeared and I didn't realize it until the next morning when I was packing to catch a plane for Amman. Whoops would not be the appropriate word to explain my reaction - and I'm sure there is an angry cloud of curse words still floating above the Nile. Other valuables were completely ignored, which makes me think they were mainly concerned with the passport, which they can get a lot of money on for the black market. A very nice lady at the American Embassy (the only one there I met there who was competent) told me that passports are stolen all the time in Cairo, including from the nicest hotels. It drives me crazy because I am so meticulous in watching over my passport, figuring that if everything else falls apart as long as I have my passport life will take care of itself.

So, that left me stranded in Cairo - I couldn't fly out because I didn't have a passport so I had to cancel my flight to Amman, and also the meeting I had set up for that afternoon with new University of Jordan faculty members. This also meant trading a million emails and a few phone calls, all heading off to Vermont in the wee small hours of the morning because of the time difference. Luckily, my wife is a freakishly early riser so she was up cancelling credit cards by 5:00 a.m. Then there were calls to Rochelle at Child Travel and Christen at the Vermont Federal Credit Union about changing travel plans and getting a replacement bank card (I keep my travel funds at the Credit Union to always keep things separate from my personal account), respectively. Rochelle, per usual, was fantastic about arranging my flight schedule. The credit union apparently can't get a replacement bank card to me "over-nighted" until next Tuesday, although that certainly doesn't seem to be Christen's fault - she jumped right on the situation and pursued it with the higher-ups. So, it will eventually show up, although I don't think this qualifies as cracker-jack service (if it shows up on Tuesday at all) in regards to a company policy so it looks like I'll be changing banks when I get back.

That left me with the immediate chore of trying to get a replacement passport, which turned into a full day of madness. First if was off to the US Embassy, which was relatively pleasant although hardly designed to inspire confidence in your government (who saw that coming). I did meet one hyper-competent woman who turned everything around very quickly - including calling up the picture of my old passport on the computer to verify that it was, in fact, me. The other officials told me that I needed more personal ID, even though I tried to explain to them that all my personal ID was stolen. Normally I do a much better job of separating cards and ID into different bags so that I have a fall-back, but I've been so busy lately (or maybe I've grown complacent, in which some of this is clearly my fault, from travelling a bit and just didn't take my normal precautions). I also had a picture of my old passport, which allowed me some leverage - it also allowed me to enter the US Embassy - although I had to go outside to make a couple extra copies of the copy so that I could leave one at the front gate. It also cost a $100 to get a replacement, and I was lucky to have just enough to cover it in Egyptian pounds that I had not converted or was stupid enough to leave in my wallet. I also had to go get a couple new pictures, which was supposed to be in the wooden kiosk across the street - it was actually in a little hole in the wall about a block away hidden away down an alley (it wasn't a kiosk, although there was wood used in its construction). Overall I went in and out of the Embassy about four or five times, but did end up with a new passport, although this one is only good for a year (I can trade this one in for a regular passport for no charge as soon as I get home).

That was only the first part of the adventure. Then I had to go get an entry stamp in my passport. Egypt gives lovely entry stamps that take up about half a page in a passport, which is still much smaller than the entire page that an Indian visa occupies. Without the stamp I could not leave the country, and this meant going over to the Egyptian Ministry of the Interior and and the Immigration office. If it had not been so coincidently comical, it would have been pretty hellish. I can't begin to fill you in on all the trials and tribulations because it is a bit confusing to me now and it only happened yesterday. Suffice it to say I went up and down repeatedly over three floors - bounced back and forth between four different windows - pushed and shoved an astonishing mass of humanity - offered bribes - had the advantage of being an American - and it still took hours. The main staging area for this theatre of the bizarre was on the second floor (the copy machine was on the first floor and "the General" was on the third floor), where there was a long narrow hallway with windows (like an old bank) on each side. I went to window 43 and was sent to 12 and then was sent to 2 and then was directed to 42, which is sort of where I thought I should have been initially. It had the simple words "Lost Passports" stencilled onto the class. In front of it were dozens of people, from every imaginable nationality (including a bunch of American high school or university students) all piling up, pushing, cursing, and trying to push their passport through the opening and into the hands of an official - all in a hundred degree heat. I've spent enough time in India to know that queueing up patiently in lines at banks or offices or even movie theaters is such a quaint American custom, so I dove right in. I was angry and did my fair share of shoving, including women and children - and just about turned around and physically confronted a guy behind me, but luckily (probably for me, because I'm really a wimp) my absolutely murderous glare bought me a couple inches. Pushing for around an hour just got me close enough to get a form to fill out and a directive to get my new passport copied, and then a return back upstairs to the same window to start pushing again, only to be told that I also needed a copy of the letter from the US Embassy explaining that my passport had been stolen, and then back downstairs to get a copy of that, although when I went back to the window again they didn't want the form. I thought it was also interesting that the last line on the form was a request for me to sign a personal declaration that my passport had not been stolen, which I did. I wonder if this allows the Egyptian government to declare that while not many passports are actually stolen, a lot of clumsy Americans do manage to lose them. Then I was directed upstairs to meet "the General", where I had to sit for a while (but at least his office was air-conditioned) for him to give his approval - next to his office was another office full of computers so old that they weren't running Windows. At a certain point the General asked where I was from and I said American, and he immediately yelled over to one of the functionaries to hurry up. This is what always amazes me - it was a bad experience for me and it took hours, but I'd hate to think how bad it was for those poor souls from sub-Saharan Africa who are probably still sitting in line a day later. So, eventually my passport was hand-carried downtown by a diminutive guy in a uniform who delivered it back to window 42. So, I was back where I started with my passport in a pile of passports, but at least it had been processed up to a certain point and the General had OK'd it. At this point I looked into the cubicle and made eye contact with the little official who had carried it down from the General's office. He gave the universal sign for baksheeh (it's the same signal in India) - that is, miming putting food in his mouth (he did this on the sly). I nodded in response, and he reached over and moved my passport to the top of the pile. From there it was only about another twenty minutes. At a certain point another official took it in a back room, and I had this look of exasperation on my face - and the Egyptian guy next to me smiled and said, "Welcome to Egypt," as in, "yeah, it doesn't make sense to me either, but there you go," which made me crack up. Finaly the form was stamped (sort of) and I could leave. Everything else is up in the air, but, hey, I have a passport. Oh, and I looked for the little official later and I spotted him walking down the hallway towards me, and I turned to walk towards him with my hands in my pocket for the exchange of baksheesh but he gave me this very theatrical rolling of his eyes to show that someone was watching so the deal was off, and he just smiled at me and said good-bye.

Luckily Betsy and her friend Lee have arrived from Luxor so there's some financial support. Plus, I've brought Betsy's operations manager Darlene into the fray and she'll probably have the Egyptian government organized by this afternoon.

The Time of Ignorance

. . . and I'm not talking about my own undergraduate experience. Rather, that is the term that Muslims use when discussing the time before the prophet. I guess it came back to me as I spent my last day in Cairo bumming around the older parts of Cairo and sliding into the Islamic quarter, which is an amazing place in it's own right. If I have time I'll expand on this with more detail, although, truthfully, I didn't go to as many souvenir locations as much as I just walked the streets (surviving the heat and traffic - I'm beginning to feel a bit "gritty" like I did in Mumbai) and just stopped for tea and a shwarma and just experienced it. I've talked to a few of my new Islamic friends about their relationship with Egypt's own glorious history. I was thinking that it might be sort of an uneasy relationship because as extraordinary as Egypt as, it was still, by definition, the time of ignorance. Instead they are fairly comfortable with the earlier period and even think that since the Egyptians were the first people in history to come up with the concept of an afterworld they were already beginning a spiritual quest that continues today. They also think that maybe they will achieve the overall cultural and political and economic brilliance of the pharonic Egyptians, albeit in a different form. Rather, their more tortured relationship, their own love-hate relationship, although felt less clearly or intensively as India, is with the British.

The Egyptian Museum

On Tuesday 8 July I made my way back into central Cairo, this time to the Egyptian Museum, which is actually just around the corner from the American University in Cairo (at least from their present campus, they're moving to a new campus even as we speak). It really was an extraordinary experience, as you might imagine. There were some peculiarities, but I think they just added to the experience. For one thing, it was not air-conditioned and it is just oppressively hot in Cairo right now. There were times when I wanted to stop and read something or take a closer look at an exhibit, but almost immediately I'd start walking again just to generate a self-induced breeze. Most of the exhibits were not labelled - or the writing looked like it was typed a hundred year ago - or was just in Arabic - so it helps if you know something about Egyptian history or if you hire a guide. Certainly the grounds was swimming with them. However, like I said, I think this added to the experience in an odd way - it certainly wasn't one of those touristy places which hardly qualify as museums anymore. Luckily, I'm a historian and have teaching world civilization for a long time so I knew enough to keep from being completely lost. There were more amazing things than I can recount, obviously. The mummies are very cool (especially Sety I, who looks like he could open up his eyes and say hello - it reminds me of visiting Memphis one time to see an exhibit of Pre-Columbian material and there was a room with three Inca mummies and my friend David Kelley came up and whispered that that was the room where all nightmares were born - this was sort of like that). You have to pay extra to see the mummies - it's another 100 Egyptian pounds (about $20) - as compared to the 50 EL (about $10) to get in the door - but it's well worth the extra expense. As is always the case when I go to museums, however, it's always the odd, little things which really got to me. For example, they had a special room just for animal mummies, including some huge crocodiles. They had this really amazing (and huge) statue that has created a lot of controversy - scholars can't decide whether it is a very feminine representation of the Akhenaten (the Egyptian pharaoh who was arguably the first person in history to promote a monotheistic religion, the worship of the sun god Aten) that expressed the male/female duality of Aten or whether it was a representation of his wife as a key goddess. There were also the shawabtis, which were little statues that were placed in tombs beginning in the Middle Kingdom. Initially there was only one, but eventually the number grew to 401 - they look like little blue soap-on-a-rope (without the rope) pharaohs. They were designed to do things for the deceased in the next world based on the 6th spell of the Egyptian Book of the Dead. There were 401 because you had one for each of the days of the solar calendar and then another 36, one, complete with whips to keep the others in line, for each of the ten day cycles of the year. I'm not much for souvenirs, but I may have to track one of these down.

American University in Cairo

I spent the entire day today in central Cairo at the American University in Cairo, which is easily one of the finest, if not the finest, university in the Middle East. I received a really nice campus tour, and the campus is beautiful - and wonderfully quiet and shady in the midst of the heat and bustle of downtown Cairo. The university has a little over five-thousand students, which makes it an easier fit for our Global Modules network than some of the huge schools like Alexandria University, the University of Jordan or Goteborg University (Sweden). I met with Mohamed Abul Seoud, the Director of Study Abroad, Rana El-Harty, Assistant to the Associate Provost for International Programs, Dr. Helen Rizzo from Sociology (who hails from Canton, Ohio and who received who doctorate from Ohio State - but who not explain why the Buckeyes fail so miserably in college football national championship games), lunch with Dr. David Blanks who is the Chair of the History Department, Dr. Hoda Grant who is the Associate Director of the Core Curriculum and the FYE, and Emma (didn't catch her last name, and I am waiting for an email from her) who is an American student working on her masters and who is in charge of the university's innovative Dialogue program. Besides showing a lot of enthusiasm for the Global Modules program - Dr. Blanks and Dr. Grant are very enthusiastic in their support - they also asked us if Champlain would be interested in participating in their Dialogue program where students in their Cross-Cultural Representations rotate weeky video-conferencing classes with universities such as Georgetown and the University of Washington in Seattle. On the spot I signed us up and we'll set something up with one of our Seminar in Contemporary World Issues courses for this fall - I suppose I should have waited for official clearance - and to see if our video-conferencing equipment still works - and, well, you know - but patience is not one of my virtues. AUC is really a top-notch school and it says something great about Champlain that we are starting to get noticed by universities like this.

And that was the nice part of the day. By the time I was finally finished at AUC it was rush hour and the traffic was amazing - think of Boston on steroids. Although it was still not as bad as Mumbai, mainly because there were no cattle or elephants or monkeys or holy men in the streets. The traffic was so bad that no taxi driver, even for extra money, would take me across the Nile to Zamalek. So, I just had to hang around in the streets until the traffic finally began to clear around 7:30. It was also so hot I was actually beginning to get a little light-headed. I kept buying big cold containers of bottled water and just drinking them almost straight down. Finally, the traffic logjam broke and I was able to make my way back to the Longchamps.

Perceptions

One of the lasting perceptions that folks overseas have of us is that we're really insanely pampered - and, well, I guess we are. Everywhere I go people are amazed that I might want to actually walk someplace or take the stairs. Granted, sometimes it's folks trying to make a dime by trying to get us to take the donkey or camel or elephant or taxi or auto-rickshaw rides, but you see it in other ways as well. When I was at the American University of Cairo today it was all I could do to convince my contacts there that I wouldn't wilt walking down one flight of stairs. Some of it relates that that amazing Middle Eastern sense of hospitality, but there's something deeper that relates to a perception that we're pretty soft (or that we have some sort of left-over colonial need to be taken care of).

Hamdil'allah!

Clean clothes! Thank god for the laundry service at the Hotel Longchamps. It's amazing how the smallest thing can make your day when you're away from home for a long trip.

Lost in Zamalek

After my big pyramids adventure I took it pretty easy tonight (plus I have a a series of meetings tomorrow at the American University in Cairo and I have a little prep work to do). So, I went for a long walk around the neighborhood, Zamalek, where the Hotel Longchamps is located. Well, it wasn't supposed to be a long walk but it turned into one when I got lost. As usual, I was pretty certain that I knew was I was headed - and Zamalek is a very safe, unscale neighborhood - so I didn't have much to worry about. It reminds me of Bandra, the neighborhood where my apartment was when I taught at our campus in Mumbai. I took one wrong turn, however, and immediately got lost - and then, instead of simply turning around with my tail between my legs and retracing my steps - I "figured out" where to go and got much more lost . . . until I turned around with my tail between my legs, retraced my steps, and found my way back to the hotel. It was actually a very nice walk and I know a lot more about the neighborhood. Along the way I passed the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf Cafe (I've seen them in Dubai - in fact, they have one on the campus at our GM partner Zayed University) and went in to check out their frappocino prices - they were 19 Egyptian shillings, which is about 4-5 US dollars. The place was packed, which certainly speaks to greater overall prosperity but also the rise of an increasingly consumer society. I took a flyer on the frappocino and instead dropped by the local McDonald's for a chocolate milkshake (tasted exactly the same). So, if you're staying at the Longchamps and get a craving for American fast food, just walk out the front and take a left on Ismail Mohamed and follow it to the river - along the way you'll pass a Hardee's - and there you will find a Pizza Hut right next to the McDonald's.

A trip to the pyramids

OK, I'm sure I'll have more to say about this later, but for now let me mainly post pictures. I made it out to the pyramids in one piece and the taxi driver was pleasant enough. He spoke no English (which was obviously cool) but he also seemed to be swerving in and out of dementia as quickly as he was traffic (which was not cool). That said, he got me out to Giza in good order, although driving in Cairo has now taken over Boston's place as the craziest urban driving I have ever seen. We drove madly around, often turning completely around in breath-taking u-turns, and then suddenly we were there - and suddenly there were the pyramids, which, amazingly, I could never catch a glimpse of as we tore through town. They were pretty awe-inspiring, although the constant pestering by a million and one Egyptians for their baksheesh (somewhere between a tip and a bribe) did wear on me. Typically, I had an ugly falling out with my "guide" - I didn't want him and he sort of just materialized out of the desert. There is a certain logic to having a guide because it then gives you a force field to keep away the other touts. He wanted a $100 for a tour and I talked him down to 80 ES (Egyptian shillings - around $16 - still way too much). If you don't mind a little bribery you can get access to certain things, such as the picture of me perspiring/expiring in a tomb and the hieroglyphics, but once you get the money out the first time it's over. Unfortunately, I was not able to get into the Great Tomb because they only take a certain small number in the morning - if only my taxi driver this morning had been able to focus a little more cleanly on his fleeting sanity we would have made it there earlier. I did make it into one of the three smaller tombs besides Khufu's tomb (for his mother, wife and sister) and also into the tomb of the Great Pyramid's architect (that's where the picture of me in the tomb was taken). The climb down into the smaller pyramid was pretty tough, especially since it was a small descending shaft with no steps other than boards for traction and people coming up and down next to each other - if you have claustrophobia be sure to not include this one on your itinerary. I didn't get a picture inside that tomb because I didn't feel like paying more baksheesh, but also because there wasn't much to see. I guess the begging/propositioning wasn't any worse than India, but for some reason it felt much less endearing. It was bloody hot and I wore my silly floppy hat from the Gate of India that my great friend John Neelankavil bought for me in Mumbai. It was dorky but really saved me. On the way back the taxi drivers right at the pyramids themselves wanted 50 ES to take me back (I had paid 25 ES to get there), after a little haggling I told them to buzz off and I went in search of another ride. A couple hundred yards down the road - next to a golf course (?) - I hailed another taxi driver and we haggled even though we didn't share any words in common. I gave him my Arabic directions back to the Hotel Longchamps (a valuable thing to pick up at your hotel) and asked how much. He pulled out a 10 ES note and lifted up two fingers (meaning 2 10's) and then smiled and gingerly raised up the third finger. I smiled and flashed him two and a half fingers back and the negotiatons were completed and off we went. Oh, and I included a picture of the Sphinx - I love its Arabic name, Abu al-Hol, the "father of terror" - I'm thinking about a name change!

On the way to Cairo

OK, I've made it to Cairo in one piece. To tell you the truth, I was a little nervous about the entire trip down by train. I had never taken the Egyptian train system, obviously, and I think the folks behind the front desk at the Cecil were amused at my insistence on leaving earlier than they thought I should. The taxi driver, of course, had a very fluid sense of what he should be paid and then wanted to be paid in US dollars and then wanted to be paid in half US dollars and half Egyptian shillings and framed it all with stories about his five hajjs to Mecca. He did manage to get me to the train station in plenty of time so all was forgiven. I already had a ticket for the train so the bigger issue was finding the right train, which was not as easy as it sounds. Eventually one of the unofficial "porters" grabbed my suitcase and off we went - normaly I avoid this like the plague but I really needed some help finding the right train. In turn, he handed my suitcase off to a more "official"porter on the train, who wanted 8 ES from me for carrying my suitcase around four feet - when I handed him a couple he let me know that he wanted more. I ended up losing my temper (which I'm known to do) and it's probably a good thing that we didn't speak a common language (grin). Anyway, it was in fact the right train and I was off on my merry way. The train was air-conditioned and although it was a first-class Egyptian compartment I suspect it would be a sub-second class compartment by European standards (although it was still a lot better than the train my Dad and I took from Mumbai to Vellore a few years ago). A nice lady on the train, assisted by a guy with better English skills, worked to help me figure out where to go once I got off the train. Finally she just walked with me and found a taxi driver that she trusted to take me to the Hotel Longchamps, which made me feel a hell of a lot better. One of the problems with staying at less expensive, lesser known places is that they are, well, lesser known, which means the taxi drivers have to find them. The Longchamps is an odd little place which takes up the entire fifth floor of an apartment building - the Hotel Horus takes up the fourth floor. I had my doubts when I walked into the front, although I've stayed in all sorts of places to stretch my budget. As it turns out the Longchamps is a charming little place. My room has air-conditioning, cable TV (although a tiny TV which sits on the desk right next to me at the moment - I'm watching an edited version of the The Cooler right now), and couple lovely balconies (where I had dinner) and a chef on site (for supper I had traditional Egyptian lentil soup and Spaghetti Bolognese) - all for $48 a night. Anyway, safe and sound, and tomorrow I'm going to try and make it out to the pyramids.

The pictures are of the train station in Alexandria and one of the balconies at the Hotel Longchamps.

Grabbing some Tea

Another lovely memory from Friday 4 July. During my long way I ended up at a little roadside cafe right across the street from a huge mosque. People were pouring in by the hundreds for Friday public prayer. I sat there for over an hour, had a tea, and watched the world go by. There was a well-dressed older gentleman who kept walking up and down pitching a watch, to very little success. The inner-city train also ran in front of the cafe, along with cars and buses and men pulling carts full of water melon and women in abayas pulling children along behind them.

Sitting on the Dock of the Bay

One of my favorite memories of Alexandria was walking out to the far end of the corinche by the Qaitbey Fortress on Friday 4 July. I didn't end up going into the fortress itself because, one, I've seen lots of fortresses, but also, secondly, because as soon as I got there a big busload of Americans came up. Instead, I just sat out on the dock for around an hour and watched the families walking by and especially the fishermen. There was one guy there in a blue policeman-like uniform who was in a constant argument with the fishermen - I suspect he would have had more influence if he had not been in his stocking feet. Later I went over and got an ice cream cone and a bottle of water - the shop-keeper made sure that I got the coldest water possible. A little kid asked me where I was from and seemed generally happy that I was from the US. It's amazing what a few shukrons, salaams and insh'allahs can do to spread good cheer. I just sat there for an hour and no one bothered me and I was quite content - I probaby would have stayed longer except that it was brutally hot (although the breeze helped a lot).