When my husband first lobbied me to include a third country, and by extension a third continent, in our two week vacation, I balked at the idea. Anyone could easily spend three weeks in Turkey alone, and we had already decided to visit Greece as well. But he convinced me it would all be worth it, and he was right.
This sent us on a trajectory from the island of Milos back to Athens, through Istanbul, and finally to Cairo. In the end it cost us one day of travel to spend one full day and two nights in Egypt. We spent a lot of time researching more streamlined travel route alternatives, all of which ultimately proved unviable.
By the time we arrived at the airport it was late, around 10 pm. We needed a visa upon arrival, so we waited in a long line. We got to the front, only to be told they only accept cash in Egyptian Pounds or USD. The good news is that there was an ATM at the airport. The bad news was that we had to wait in line again. And this was all before going through customs and immigration.
Once we were finally out, we found our taxi driver to take us to our AirBnB. We stayed in Giza as opposed to the main city of Cairo. It was a bit more of a raw experience. The building itself was on a dirt road. There was tacky cartoonish Egyptian hieroglyph wall paper in the dimly lit lobby. A dirt mound sat near the entrance with cats fighting each other to be king of the hill. We rode the doorless elevator to one of the upper floors as the exposed brick between each floor whizzed by.
We stepped out onto the landing. A man who did not speak English appeared from a neighboring apartment to help usher us inside. The entire outside wall was a floor to ceiling window. He kept the lights off and pointed for us to look out the window as he opened the remote operated curtain, revealing why we had chosen to stay here. We had an unobstructed view of the pyramids of Giza themselves right in front of us.
The view was surreal. I didn’t necessarily consciously consider the pyramids a bucket list item, but I was stunned to see them. I don’t usually connect well with the concept of an “inner child.” But in this moment my inner fourth grader leapt up from my psyche, and she was absolutely delighted. I couldn’t believe that I was getting to see in person something so iconic. Something that I had learned and relearned about in every history class I had ever taken. As a symbol the pyramids loomed large in my most basic idea of ancient civilization and adventure.
Early the next morning, we walked up and down the street looking for something to eat before our tour. We came to the corner, with what looked like it could be a restaurant. There were men sitting outside smoking hookah. After some back and forth one of the clientele, our impromptu translator, explained that there was no menu. We opted for cookies and bottled water at the grocery store instead. On the way back we came to a coffee cart overseen by a young boy, maybe 12 years old. Imitating the politeness of adults, and using broken English and sweeping hand gestures, he tried to not charge us for our order as a way of welcome, so we had to insist. It was one of the most endearing exchanges I have ever had.
We had a full day tour with a young guy, maybe in his early 20s. His English was not great but he had an enthusiastic attitude and had taken a photography class. The end result was some pictures that I never would have staged myself but am absolutely delighted to have. After the main attraction of the pyramids and the sphinx he took us to a series of shops under the guise of having a cultural experience. This led to the purchase of papyrus paintings that I will probably never actually display and perfume that I will probably never actually wear before we reached our limit and opted out of the last stop, a rug store. Lord knows we don’t need any more rugs in our house after Mexico, Morocco, and Turkey.
In the evening we went on a Nile cruise, which featured several live performances. The opening act was a man singing covers of pop songs in Arabic, English, and Spanish. And with the energy he brought, I can only hope he moonlights as a wedding DJ on the weekends. Next came a belly dancer accompanied by live music. But the crown jewel was the final act, a whirling dervish. This ecstatic dance comes from sufism. Sufism is a mystic branch of Islam that focuses on developing a direct and personal relationship with god. The poet Rumí developed the practice of spinning to reach a trance like or ecstatic state in Turkey in the 13th century. We didn’t get the chance to see dervishes perform in Turkey, so I was quite pleasantly surprised that one appeared on this ship.
The performance was a spectacle, pretty far removed from the mystic origins of the practice. But that didn’t stop me from enjoying it any less. The stamina of the performer was impressive enough on its own. He was spinning for a solid 15 to 20 minutes without stopping. But what really made it over the top was when they turned out the lights to reveal that his entire outfit illuminated with string lights, everything from the hat to the skirt.
Afterwards, we went to one of the few bars we could find in Cairo, Cap D’or. It’s a hole in the wall type place that first opened in 1908. It was smoky inside, the clientele composed primarily of foreign men. Our server presented us with a generous plate of bar snacks typical to Egypt that I would never have considered bar snacks before. This included cucumber and a legume I had never tried before called lupin beans.
The next morning we went to the Grand Egyptian Museum, or GEM. This is not to be confused with the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, built at the turn of the 20th century. The Egyptian Museum currently houses most of the precious few artifacts left in the country. The GEM is a new and truly impressive undertaking. Construction first started in 2005. It is located in Giza, not Cairo. It is so close to the pyramids that you can see them from the second floor.
The main museum building is complete, but it sits mostly empty, for now. I think it’s still worth a visit. The architecture of the site is impressive. And there are also multiple decent restaurants currently open, as well as some shops, and a well stocked gift shop. You won’t find much information on their website. But it is open to the public during the hours posted.
We took Ubers there and back to the airport. The drop off point for the museum was the side of the highway. I talked to one of our drivers about the local tensions with the refugees coming into the country from Sudan, and now Gaza. We passed people on motorcycles, sometimes up to three at a time and not a helmet in sight. This would have surely shocked me before moving to Miami, where there are no helmet laws. But by just observing the seemingly endless parade of exposed heads on two wheeled vehicles you would think that helmets are actually forbidden considering how few people I have seen wearing them there. At the drop off point, we crossed some sand and stepped through an opening of chain linked fence to enter the museum, which created a striking contrast with its total modernity.
The questions I get from women about Egypt is, did you feel safe? Would you travel there alone? Did you get cat-called? I don’t know what it is like to travel in Egypt alone. I would do it, but I wouldn’t recommended it to every person. Not because I would be especially concerned for their safety, but because it could be a stressful trip if you are less experienced as a solo traveler. From talking to other women and from my own personal experience, sexual harassment is just not a major concern for female tourists traveling in Islamic countries. Egypt is very conservative, and I also dressed conservatively while I was there. This was both out of respect for the culture and out of respect for the fact that I was visiting a desert in August and needed to protect myself from the sun.
However, scamming tourists is a common practice in Egypt. One man cajoled me into taking a few pictures I didn’t want, only to ask me for a tip immediately after. And I bought a few kitschy souvenirs, bamboozled after a moment of weakness while browsing or just lingering in one spot too long. If you are in a crowded area and pause to take in the experience instead of being laser focused on arriving at the next destination, someone will surely notice and start talking to you. And that can be annoying. However, I never felt unsafe. In fact, people went out of their way to be exceptionally friendly and welcoming. They might rob you blind by what they are charging, but that’s about it.
Being swindled or overpaying is something that I am used to and am comfortable with. It’s part of the cost of traveling to a poorer country. And I would rather make a feeble attempt at bartering than go to a country and pay middle men for a touristic experience designed to keep me “safe” from the people that actually live in the country.
But the reality is that traveling with my husband, an ethnically ambiguous brown man, makes me safer. I feel comfortable wearing less clothes and talking to more people and going to more sketchy areas. This is true both abroad and at home. And for him, it’s the opposite. Traveling with a white woman is more risky. It draws attention to him in places where he could otherwise pass a more peaceful existence as a local walking down the street. So I am glad I didn’t go alone and I absolutely plan to go back. I may go solo or not, just as long as I had a proper amount of time to actually dedicate to the country.
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