Day 3

Friday, June 4, 2010 (Cairo, Egypt) – The day started early, despite Calvin’s clear objection, which he literally wore (a T-shirt with the word “awake” and a line through it).

It started even earlier for me. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten excited about sleeping great on the first night. Jetlag caught up to me, and I woke at 4 a.m. I have no idea how jetlag works. It seems to me that your body would be used to the time at home, but 4 a.m. in Cairo would be 9 p.m. in Denver, which is certainly not the time I generally wake up for the day.

We were heading for the pyramids. Perhaps you’ve heard of them. But they’re really big, and people think they’re off in the middle of the desert.

In fact, they are less than 30 minutes from Darren’s place in Cairo (35, if you count the wrong turn we took). Here’s another little fact you may not have known: the Sphinx is staring directly at a Pizza Hut/Kentucky Fried Chicken. Seriously. It’s directly across the street. I tried to figure out a way to take a picture of the window with the Sphinx in the reflection, but I’m just not a good enough photographer.

“Of course we were besieged by a rabble of muscular Egyptians and Arabs who wanted the contract of dragging us to the top--all tourists are. Of course you could not hear your own voice for the din that was around you. Of course the Sheiks said they were the only responsible parties; that all contracts must be made with them, all moneys paid over to them, and none exacted from us by any but themselves alone. Of course they contracted that the varlets who dragged us up should not mention bucksheesh once. For such is the usual routine. Of course we contracted with them, paid them, were delivered into the hands of the draggers, dragged up the Pyramids, and harried and be-deviled for bucksheesh from the foundation clear to the summit. We paid it, too, for we were purposely spread very far apart over the vast side of the Pyramid. There was no help near if we called, and the Herculeses who dragged us had a way of asking sweetly and flatteringly for bucksheesh, which was seductive, and of looking fierce and threatening to throw us down the precipice, which was persuasive and convincing.”
The great Mark Twain wrote that passage in The Innocents Abroad in 1869. Of course, he could have easily been talking about today.

You know those beach peddlers at Mexican resorts? They’re bush league. They’re in the minor leagues. These dudes at the Giza Pyramids? They’re in the big leagues. They, in fact, may be the All-Stars.

For the record, when Twain referred to “bucksheesh” he was talking about “baksheesh,” which translates to the requisite tips paid to everyone in Egypt from the guy holding the restroom door to the policemen who offer nuggets if information like “there are three big pyramids and six smaller ones” (for those of us with lesser counting skills or the inability to see the gigantic structures springing up from a flat plateau) to the guy you ask to “please stay out of my photograph.” And if he does stay in the photograph, you have to pay him “modeling fees.” It’s what you might call a win-win, at least for him. And I’ll give him bonus points for hedging his bets.

Most of these men (I wish there was a clever name for them, but I don’t believe there is) are either peddling trinkets or camel rides, although my favorite scene of the day involved a policeman chasing a guy on a horse. It seems that the camel pushers (hey, that’s what we’ll call them regardless of what they were selling) must have some sort of permit, and the guy with the horse did not. What made it so entertaining, though, was the policeman clearly liked his donuts and he was chasing the horse on foot. After about 20 yards, the policeman gave up, so the guy on the horse stopped at the same time, within about 10 feet of the policeman. With crackdowns like that, it’s no wonder so many camel pushers are going through the proper channels (no proof).

We had a nice look around the pyramids and the Sphinx. As you might expect, they are truly huge and fairly breathtaking. After all, they are the only remaining member of the Seven Wonders of the World. You’ve really got to hand it to the Pharos. They had these things built to commemorate themselves, and people are still flocking to them roughly 3,500 years later. I’m choosing to ignore the fact that their mummified corpses were actually taken out of their sacred tombs and will soon be at the Denver Museum of Natural Science (check your local listings) among other places. I’m not sure that’s what they had in mind when they were seeking eternal peace and a resting place, but at least they’re not forgotten.

We ventured down into one of the smaller pyramids. On Darren’s advice, we chose it for a few reasons: the crowds are obviously smaller than they are in the big ones, there is less ground to cover as you’re climbing down, and the tomb area is roughly the same size (and an empty room). The distance can’t be overstated, especially for people who might hypothetically be 6-2. Perhaps I shouldn’t stereotype, but I’m pretty sure the ancient Egyptians were not tall. Going down these passageways was like the marathon of limbo competitions. Sammy (at six years old) was barely able to walk through without ducking, although I think his hat was skimming a couple times.

Being inside the pyramid is more about appreciating the big picture and realizing where you are and just how long ago the thing was built than it is about looking around the tomb. Really, you travel down about 200 yards to look in an empty room that’s roughly the size of a studio apartment in Manhattan. And the heat is unbearable. If you ever want to know what a slow simmer feels like, this might be a good place to find out. It’s not overwhelmingly quick to heat your skin, like the desert sun outside, but after just a few minutes you start to feel like you’re literally cooking. And in case you’re wondering, climbing up to the exit is much easier than climbing down, and the outside air somehow feels refreshing.

While we did go inside, we did not climb the pyramids, as Twain and countless others did. They stopped allowing it in the 1980s, most likely after some American got hurt and sued somebody, but the reasons are not well documented.

We left Giza and headed south. Most people think of the Giza Pyramids when they think of Egypt, but there are actually several more scattered throughout the country. As we were driving along a canal, we drove past farms that were situated within spitting distance of a pyramid.

About a half hour (and a few more wrong turns) later, we arrived at the Step Pyramid of Djoser in Saqqara. For literally four miles around, this area is completely covered in archeological marvels. We wandered down another pyramid. Truth be told, we were kind of making fun of this one because it looked an awful lot like a mound of rocks you might find in the Rocky Mountains. When we got to the tomb, though, we were impressed. The walls were covered in hieroglyphics and the actual tomb remained, although the coffin had long been removed.

All of us were a little tired, hot and cranky, so we made our way back to the car. It was only 12:30 p.m., but we had put in enough time and effort for the day.

After a lunch and a nap, we got back together for dinner. We were heading out, and it was going to be my first true Egyptian meal. Granted, we headed to the local fast food joint.

According to the wall, the place had been “Keeping it real since 1988.” I have no idea what that means, but I got some sort of chicken sandwich that had red and green peppers along with their own version of special sauce. It was certainly edible, but I don’t expect to see this particular chain popping up around the DU campus

All in all, it was a successful day, as we felt like we accomplished what many refer to as a bucket list item before we even had lunch.