Fearless Travel

Finally on the 10th of June we had “Pyramid day” (yeom al’Ahram in Arabic). The American university in Cairo knows how important culture and history are to the learning of Arabic and so they set up this day-long excursion.  We students gathered and loaded ourselves onto the two, nice, big, air-conditioned buses for a quick tour of Cairo and then off to Giza.

Cairo, lies on the east bank of the Nile where historically, Egyptians always built their cities. Giza, on the other hand, is on the West bank (and a bit south) on the side of the Nile that the Egyptians reserved for the dead. For those of you expecting a trek through the desert, you will be surprised to find the Pyramids are, in fact, surrounded by the city of Giza. All those movies that tell you the Pyramids are way off in the desert somewhere are LYING.

The pyramids are, in fact, a mere 10 kilometers from the Nile, and from Kufu/Cheop’s (the “Great” pyramid - there is only 1 by the way…great I mean) pyramid, you could walk about five or six minutes down the hill to get a drink or some piece of memorabilia and walk back to the Pyramid.

Some people who went with us were disturbed at the mini commercialization of the Pyramids; I don’t know why since every awesome spectacle from the painted desert to the sistine chapel has someone selling something about the wonder near it, but I digress. For me, history is a very tactile experience and just touching those 2 to 20 ton blocks of granite is enough to send chills down my spine. Looking at the Pyramids, and their attending temples, statues, and such, I am amazed that they were built so damn long ago and that they were built at all! The Pyramids should be on your must-see list and here’s why:
The first one was build roughly 3000 B.C. by Kufu (called Cheops by the Greeks) -

about 1300 years before the 10 Commandments were handed down to Moses;

2700 years before the birth of Alexander the Great;

4942 year before Columbus sailed west;

4776 years before the signing of the declaration of independence;

and during that time, the pyramids have seen the rise and fall/decline of three “pharoahnic” Egyptian empires, the Greek empire, the Roman empire, the Byzantine empire, the Muslim conquests, the Mongol invasions, the Ottoman Empire, the British empire, and now our helpful democracy is being witnessed by these massive constructions.

Compared tot he concrete out-buildings constructed in the 1950’s and later to aid in the archaeologists and guards to preserve these monuments, the Pyramids seem new. The outbuildings have become pitted and ruined by the constantly-blowing sands, the intense heat of the sun, and general decay, yet the pyramids are not visibly damaged in 5000 years.

To top it all off, the ancient Egyptians did it all without mortar to hold the blocks together, most fo which were cut with copper or stone tools…

The official brochures say that The Great Pyramid (the one built by Kufu/Cheops) has somewhere in the neighborhood of 2.3 MILLION blocks ranging in size from 2 tons to 20. If disassembled and laid next to each other, they would extend for 1/3 the distance of the equator. It took 20 - 22 years of labor (not by slaves) by Egyptians during the summer months. I got dehydrated just walking around, looking at them.

You do have to pay a nominal fee (20LE - 100LE, depending in time of day and your status as a student or not, as part of a tour or not, etc.) to get into the preserve, and an additional very nominal fee (around 20LE) to enter the pyramid of Kafre (the middle one), or the Sphinx, or the Boat of Kufu/Cheops building. All of them are worth it, though entering the pyramids is truly a grueling trek (spend doubled over sloping at a 45 degree angle (up or down) either way), and perhaps can be skipped if you are not into the whole go-inside-the-pyramid thing.

I do have to say that the whole experience was at once overwhelming and surprising. I had no idea that seeing these most ancient of buildings would be so spiritual and yet laced with the mundane; tourists, ancient craftsmanship, peddlers, the architecture, the city, and the wonder of it all are like nothing I have ever experienced before. If you do get a chance to come to Egypt, I would urge you, beyond anything else, you MUST visit the Pyramids if you go to Egypt.

HERE is a live webcam of the Pyramids set up by an enterprising young Egyptian since my departure.

On my second night in Cairo,  I tried going to Al-Azhar mosque - perhaps THE most famous Mosque in the Middle East - because was supposed to be a Sufi (Dervish) ceremony. The “Dervishes”, of which the “whirling” type are but one of the branches, are the mystics of Islam. Most Muslims don’t even consider them to be truly Muslim, like most Jews do not consider the crop of neo-Kabalists out of Hollywood to be true Jews.

Sufi mysticism, however, was responsible for the spread of Islam to areas that were not reached by Arab conquests; parts of Africa, Europe and Asia were infiltrated by Sufis and a version of Islam - which adapted some of the norms of the local culture - was born. When Genghis Khan reached the Middle East, he was already aware of Islam and believed it to be a great religion. In fact, after Genghis Khan’s death, the Mongol leadership of the Middle East quickly converted to Islam, much as the Turkish invaders before them had, because of the ministrations of Sufis.

Sufi literally means “a person who wears wool” in Arabic. Wool clothing is considered to be cheap, uncomfortable, and the minimum necessary for decency. Since most Sufis live an ascetics’ life, the physical discomfort of wool was perfect for mortifying the flesh while revering God. Sufis believe they can attain oneness with God through repetitive, somatic movements. Some rock, repeating the ninety-nine names of God, while others dance.

That night, I had hoped they would have been the dancing type - it would not have been nearly as fun seeing fifty-odd men rocking in unison chanting the appellations of God. Alas, it was all for naught; we were turned away at the door by the guys who guard peoples’ shoes because prayer was underway. It seems we had not only gotten the wrong address, but the wrong time as well - the Sufis were performing further down the street, I would later find out.

Anyway, my colleagues and I (who ranged from 18 to 36 [guess who was 36]) stood around outside the Mosque and soon attracted a crowd of Egyptians. First, small children still in school came up and asked us a myriad of questions in Arabic, most of which I could understand and replied to. Then older children - apprentice coppersmiths, hauling boys, and store-front shopkeepers not a day over 15 - came up and practiced their English on us; not bad for kids who only got a 3rd grade education before having to enter the workforce. Then the older men (though no women) came over and began talking to us. It was really fascinating; many of the onlookers tried to guess our nationality - to them Americans were blon haired, blue eyed Germanic stock it seems. I, with my brown hair and bushy brown beard, was mistaken for a Spaniard and possibly a Muslim. A young man who spoke not two words of Arabic and was of African American descent was guessed to be Egyptian since he looked so much like a simple country peasant from Upper Egypt. I had fun with those two, joking that I was a Spaniard, but decided to become Egyptian when I arrived in Cairo - that brought hoots of laughter. Also, I explained my companion was not Egyptian, but also wanted to become one since all Egyptians were handsome and he wanted to be handsome too. We received many slaps on the back and laughs at that. Then we all excused ourselves and wandered the bazaar called Kkan il Khalili, had dinner and went home. All in all, it was a nice night out even without the Sufis.

I had to walk to the American University in Cairo’s main campus on my first day, which is not that arduous - or at least far away. This is at the time of the “old” campus which was located in downtown Cairo on Midan al Tahrir.

Anyway, I had to cross a side-street when a white-and-black cab zoomed past me, blaring its horn as it swerved around me. Then the cabbie yelled at me the whole way up the street - traffic was going the same speed as someone on foot (it was that crowded ) - only stopping when one of the ubiquitous Egyptian police stepped out of his kiosk and advanced toward the cabbie.

The city is a study in contrasts; there are towering minarets and grandiose tunr-of-the-century buildings flanked by a Hardees, Pizza hut, KFC, and McDonald. I saw a fairly new BMW get backed into, gouged along the driver’s side, and then promptly left by the driver of a rusty-red car of unidentifiable make.

As it got toward sunset, and the temperature began to drop, the winds picked up. The wind carried with it fine particulate that gets everywhere; inside electronics, clothes, sinks, etc.

That first night was not uncomfortable, though the day was in the 90’s. The wind was steady and the room of my apartment was spacious enough that the breeze and ceiling fan kept me cool all night. I was awoken by the 4am call to prayer though, it was a surreal experience - this wave of calls starting at the most distant was added to a second later by nearer calls, then nearer yet, and then nearest of all - each a second after each other. It was amazing - though a little disconcerting to someone who had spent several year in the Mid West with nighttime sirens and warnings being a bad thing - but had woken me out of my Jet-lagged sleep a little early for my tastes.  I have written below what they are saying in English (each line is repeated twice) followed by a rough transliteration of what it sounds like in Arabic;

“God is Greatest!” Allahu Akbar!
“God is Greatest!” Allahu Akbar!
“Witness that there is no god but God!” Yushahid an laa lah illa Allah
“Witness that there is no god but God!” Yushahid an laa lah illa Allah
“Witness that Mohammad is God’s messenger!” Yushahid an Muhammad rasuul Allah
“Witness that Mohammad is God’s messenger!” Yushahid an Muhammad rasuul Allah
“Now is the time to pray.” Ha ‘ala A’Salaah
“Now is the time to pray.” Ha ‘ala A’Salaah
“Now is the time to plow/work (the fields)” Ha ‘ala Al’Falaah
“Now is the time to plow/work (the fields)” Ha ‘ala Al’Falaah

The call lasts maybe two or three minutes, and is repeated five times during the day; early morning, sunrise, noon, sunset, and evening.

This was perhaps the most difficult trip I had ever made in my life. Because of the grant money I was given to study in Egypt, I could not take my family with me - worse still, my wife had dreamed of visiting Egypt her entire life! - and so we had to not talk about my departure lest emotions run high. You who have been graduate students may know the dilemma faced when one student gets just enough money to go somewhere cool and the other needs to stay home; we try to live within our means because being a graduate student is akin to being on welfare, only more work and less respect.

Anyway, my Wife, Son, and I wandered around town in the car, looking for someplace to snatch a few moments together over breakfast, but there was nowhere we could get into with a reasonable expectation that I’d be able to make my departure time with the shuttle bus that would take me to Los Angeles International Airport (LAX). The best we could do was to grab a quick breakfast from a certain fast-food “restaurant.”

But you know what? Even though it was eaten from a paper wrapper in our car, it was the best breakfast ever.

My Wife, Son and I then spent a few minutes at the beach (the one I’ve been posting pics of lately), looking at the waves crashing down on shore, and just talking.

It’s funny, I know that they love me every day of their lives, and I know that I love them every day of my life, but its not until we were faced with the prospect of my imminent departure that our emotions became so acute. My Wife drove us to the bus depot and we waited what seemed like FOREVER for the bus to untangle itself from the other gaggle of buses heading to points unknown. When I boarded the shuttle bus to LAX at 10 am it seemed like I was still at home…

Arriving at LAX, I was surprised to see the Air France terminal clogged with passengers in various states of annoyance; the flight to de Gaulle had been delayed for two hours by severe storms Normally, I would not have cared, but this situation jeopardized my connecting flight to Cairo. At first the ticket-takers were telling me that I’d have to contact Delta since I booked through them. Needless to say, I was having none of it, but through the combination of my desperate appearance, pathetic attempts at communicating my needs in French, and the fact that hundreds of other people were in the same boat, I was rebooked on a later flight out of LAX, and would ostensibly still be able to make the connecting flight since my bags would be sent directly to Cairo.I still don’t know how my baggage was able to move faster than me, but I digress.

My flight was late arriving in DeGaulle, and so the Air France crew ushered me – and only me – into a waiting Citroen and whisked me off to the other terminal where my plane to Cairo was waiting to take off. I felt like I had been smuggled through France, it was that quick. “’Urray up, ee’s mus’ be on zee plane to Cayre, tut sweet!” Like I’m james Bond or something, only not as cool.

The approach to Cairo was interesting, to say the least. As I landed, the dusk call to prayer was just sounding, so it totally added to the “Welcome to Cairo” vibe. See the picture below for a smugdy, frosted view of what I saw out the port window: