The Familiar and The New

We wake up early to go to the Pyramids of Giza. We immediately meet a cab driver that agrees to use his meter. 7:30 am on Friday. This is the most calm I have seen the city. Fridays and Saturdays are weekends in Egypt.

Getting into the pyramids is an exercise in patience. We are bombarded by hustlers of all ages, starting with our cabdriver, who took us to a place that was not the main entrance, but a small business peddling camel and horse rides. We state repeatedly that we want to explore the pyramids on foot, but it doesn’t matter. No matter what we say, their response is lowering the price. After we manage to leave the office and are given change for our ride, we are quickly surrounded by a crowd of children asking for pictures with us and other people offering camel and horse rides. When we finally make it to the pyramids, we have paid 2 entrance fees each.

I am writing from the outside of the largest pyramid. Mat and I just went in and are waiting for Wes to come out. It is majestic and exhilarating to be inside such an ancient structure.

Inside the pyramid are large slats of wood on an incline (like a ramp) with rungs for the hands and feet to climb. We were here early to beat the crowds so Mat and I had a pyramid all to ourselves. The tunnel resembles a cave and it is narrow. For the final stretch, I got on my knees and crawled. My breath stopped when I saw that the space had opened up to a room containing a tomb. We had reached the top.

When we were at the top I couldn’t help but thinking of how empty the room is. Shouldn’t this be filled with treasures? Some well thought out exhibit? Of course, they were once full of the valued items of pharaohs but the pyramids were pillaged for centuries before becoming what they are now— mostly empty, majestic structures that are simply beautiful because they are, and not because of anything they contain.

The people who are working at the pyramids have little in terms of material possessions. The government does so little for them that a national treasure like the pyramids is a playground for children seeking to take photos for money and horse and camel owners seeking tourists to take their rides. There are far more Egyptians than tourists, so we are targets. While I grew annoyed with the constant hustling, I understood the cause. We wander around the grounds taking pictures, turning down camel rides, and speaking to children who approach us to say hello or take pictures.

To leave the pyramids, we take our first city bus ride. I enjoy riding through the streets and wish I could use the opportunity to take in more sights, but the motion soon puts me to sleep. We get off somewhere and decide to wander around in search of lunch. The wandering ends when we come to a crowd of people around a few men making food. The crowd is chaotic, people are handing over money and speaking fast Arabic. We try to figure out what it is. Finally, Mat and Wes get in the crowd and find out that it is tamiiya (falafel, pronounced tOm-ee-ya) and foul (a delicious bean puree with spices, pronounced FOOL). The crowd is so intense and disorganized that it takes dedication for Mat to stay in there.

He places our order several times and even hands over a little extra change to ensure that it is taken care of. The latter makes no difference at all; people are simply placing orders, hoping they are heard and remembered, handing over money, and waiting for the moment that the food is finally handed over. He is in the crowd for over 20 minutes before he gets the food. Wes and I marvel at his perseverance. The food is well worth it.

We continue to wander through back streets. We pass chickens, men smoking hookah, fresh fruit stands, dilapidated cars and buildings. People stare at us everywhere and sometimes give a wave or say a simple, “Welcome.”

After a long walk and short cab ride, we finally arrive at Coptic Cairo—the Christian section of the city. Mari Girgis is an exquisite church surrounded by small chapels and a cemetery. Some chapels require that we take off our shoes. We encounter people praying and washing their faces and hands. I take many moments of quiet as I sit in the pews and reflect on the history of the city and what this church means to the small Christian population here. The previous night we went to Fatimi Cairo, a part of Islamic Cairo. Because it was at night, there were no mosques open, but I was similarly moved by the spirit of this part of the city and had many moments of reflecting on what religious conviction means to the average person.

For dinner, we meet with a local family that Mat has connected us to through couchsurfing. They are a husband, Karam, his wife, Amira, their 2 young sons, and Karam’s sister, Noha. Karam leads the way and does most of the talking. I am hoping to get to speak more with Noha and Amira, but because of language, I know it won’t be easy. But somewhere over dinner, the ice breaks. Noha and I start stumbling our way through a conversation about careers. It is through our eyes that I know we are friends. The night has just taken off.

We leave dinner and go on a boat ride on the Nile. It is a party boat and it is decorated with lights. Two young men who have a baby with them are excitedly talking to Wes. Soon the 2 guys with another 2 guys are up dancing. Their dancing reminds us of the “showtime” break dancers on the NYC subways, but it is different. At some point they pull Wes into it and he gives it his best try. Everyone laughs and Mat and I agree that we have enough material to blackmail him for life. But we are proud that he did it. The ride ends and we say goodnight to our new friends.

Each day is a new awakening in the world of Cairo. A place is inextricably connected to its people. Each time we meet new people, I have the distinct feeling of meeting a new part of Cairo.

It is only our 3^rd day and on the way home, we stop at our “favorite” ice cream place. We joke about already having “spots” in the city. We feel as if we have just had a night out with close friends and are heading home to our own apartment. But it is only a temporary home in a city of new friends. Sometimes the familiar melds into the new in the most mysterious of ways.