The World in 100 Words or Less

When one thinks about the Pyramids at Giza, one imagines a desert safari to the site in the middle of the desert with a back drop of endless sand. Of course, this can be arranged, but the truth is, is that the city of Giza, a bustling metropolis 11km from Cairo pushes out to the doorstep of the pyramids. So, One’s desert safari by camel is really a 5-minute ride to the edge of the great block structures. This was the most surprising thing about the pyramids: just how urban they were. All I needed to do was take the metro from downtown cairo and then a short taxi to get there, nothing more. The pictures we see of the pyramids, and the sphinx for that matter are carefully angle away from the city, so one does not realize that pizza hut and KFC are literally right across the street. Nothing like fried chicken and Cheops (the biggest of the three).

But, I wont be that cynical. These are amazing structures. Looking up from the base of Cheops, you are amazed that Man could have built these Pyramids, even more so amazed that they did it without the aid of today’s technology. they are the rising symbols of the sky which are immediately conjured up when the word Egypt is spoken. And for good reason. Every chiseled block, from the biggest at the base to the relatively small at the top was carefully placed, so perfectly and symmetrically at the time that we can hardly achieve such feats today. I stood at the base of each thinking what it must’ve been like when they were plastered so the sun would reflect off of them as if they were giant mirrors. Even better, there were hardly any tourists there. The sphinx of course was a different story.

“Is that really it?”, I said to myself. And without cynicism, I can say that of the marvels of Egypt, this should no be one of them. First off, it ain’t that big. Those at home who have not verntured to far off Arabia will of course imagine the Sphinx as hundreds or even one hundred feet high. It isn’t, simple as that. It’s maybe a good thirty-five feet tall. Despite this, the package tourists in their AC buses, and the young american girls in the booty shirts, were snapping away their classic pictures of them standing in front of it. And of course, in a year or so, these pictures will be buried in a drawer or dissapear on a hard drive. So i digress: the enemy of the traveller is the tourist. Though it is hard to draw lines between myself and the tourist when it comes to visiting monuments such as the Pyramids, there are indeed differences.

1. The package tourist will without fail have a camera around their neck (I shoot crude pictures with my camera phone occasionally, i admit it)

2. The package tourist has no problem paying 15 egyptian pounds ($2.30) for a can of coke, while I bargain them down in a minute to 3 pounds ($.50). And thus, the package tourist is the driving force behind the escalation in the price of things worldwide.

3. The package tourist never seeks out their own daily escapes or things to see, its all planned, plotted and paid for well in advance. There is no adventure.

4. The package tourist does not appreciate the sights, but merely check them off on the list, one day to add Niagra Falls, the Eiffel Tower, Angkor Wat, and the Great Wall of China.

5. The package tourist has no respect for culture or etiquette (hence young american girls with their asses hanging out of their tiny shorts).

This is why I plead for everyone to be a traveller and not a tourist. If fellow travellers think of any additions (there are plenty more) message me and I’ll add them on, haha.

So, “check”, i’ve done the pyramids. What else is there to talk about? It’s hard not to mention the Egyptian Museum, both for its great possessions and for its lack of proper identification on the artififacts. Nothing like looking at King Tut’s pure gold mask and reading its title haphazardly written on a little scrap of paper below. A country endowed in so many years of history may also be hindered by it. There is simply too much amazing stuff. Giant sculptures depicting Pharoahs of the past, golden chariots, spears, mummies (a room full of them), and sarcaphogi are more abundant than grains of sand in a desert. It is truly overwhelming. And if anyone makes it, I highly suggest taking a guided tour. not because the guides are that knowledgable, but because they know the important things to see and can get you discounts on some areas that require extra tickets, such as the mummy room, with its stale, air-controlled must, and eery bodies of some of the most famous rulers of all time. Ramses II is kept at 40% humidity and about 14 degrees celsius, just so you know.

Back to the desert.  I spent a week back in Cairo when I meant to only spend two.  But that’s the beauty of travelling, you make your own plans and own rules (it’s perfectly acceptable to eat ice cream in the morning and have a candy bar-how I miss good chocolate!- for dinner). So it’s the desert and I’m on my way to Dahab in the Sinai.  For those history buffs out there, the Sinai makes one think of Mt. Sinai where Moses supposedly recieved the ten commandments, or more recently, where Israel occupied for decades.  My drive to the Sinai started at midnight and I was exhausted even before I got on the bus.  Sleep, however, would not be my reward because the Egyptian guys next to me in their twenties wanted nothing more but then to pester me with questions even though I lied to them and told them I was from Greenland (“Greenland, good place. Ya?”, they say, and I think “How the fuck should I know?”, but nod instead).  What sticks out most about the trip to the Sinai is the checkpoints.  It is such a high security place that we were stopped no less than 8 times by shabbily dressed officers calling for everyone’s passports and papers.  I didn’t know whether to feel relieved by the amount of security or be afraid due to the fact that everytime I handed my passport over they saw my last name, my big nose and my overgrown hair and beard.  Thankfully, stares and smirks were all that I got.

By 10 am I had finally arrived in Dahab. I was greeted by the cool air of the sea and its quaint little city.  Dahab is purely a tourist town, though it is run primarily by the local beduoin people.  It sits at a lovely spot right on the Red Sea, smack in the middle of rising cliffs and mountains and beautiful reefs on the other side.  I had decided in the previous weeks to take a diving course here, because the Red Sea is famous for its fantastic reefs And for its cheap courses.  But cheap by diving standards still means it set me back $300 bucks (as much as I spent in about a month in India).  Just walking into the diving center sparked a previously unknown excitement in me.  I would be going under water, into the deep blue and breathing at that.  After finishing my coursework and watching movies which sold more courses and equipment instead of safety, i put on my wet suit, my wait belt (fat floats), my jacket and then my tank.  As I took my first step into the water I realized why I was doing it.  Always the dreamer, always wanting to bethe Astronaut and fly into space, SCUBA diving was as close to space as I’ll probably ever get.  After learning some skills, I deflated my jacket, my body and head slowly falling under water, and took my first breath under water. Wow, there’s a lot of fish under here.

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