Today in Cairo seems particularly touched by the magic of people. I am riding in the back of an old white pick up station wagon driven by Sayed, a man in his 60s who has no teeth in the top row of his mouth. He is very happy to meet us and be our driver for the day. My body wants to sleep but my mind won’t let my eyes close to the sights around me. We are leaving the bustling city of Cairo and going to the smaller towns of Memphis, Dahshur, and Saqqara. Because getting to these locations requires complicated transportation logistics, we have allowed the “luxury” of a driver. A price is set and we make it clear that we will do no shopping for souvenirs and the like.
My eyes open and close as the landscape becomes covered with dirt roads, sandy fields, and more and more people riding donkeys. On the last highway out of Cairo, I see a Muslim woman on the back of a motorcycle with a small baby in her arms. We make eye contact and smile at each other. The day is already blessed.
The museum at Memphis is a small, sandy yard filled with the artifacts of and monuments made to Ramses II. The most memorable sight is a few men working on cleaning a sphinx…
…and this statue of Ramses II.
But it is was happens outside the museum that makes an impression on my heart. Sayed is sitting outside a nearby papyrus shop when we see him. I think it is a café because he is sitting with another man drinking tea. They invite us to sit. The man’s name is Ahmet. He is around the same age as Sayed or older.
Ahmet is a small man in a long kaftan with a regal bearing that is underscored by his salt and pepper mustache. He has kind, perceptive eyes. Soon we are chatting, sipping tea, making easy conversation. I am transfixed watching the people ride by on donkeys and the groups of school children walk by. This is the most tranquil I have felt here. The plentiful palm trees seem majestic and the delicious mint tea they serve us put me at ease.
After the mint tea, Ahmet offers to take us inside his shop. He promises not to pressure us to buy and I feel like I can believe him. Up until this point, I don’t realize that we aren’t sitting outside of a café but a papyrus paper shop. My eyes spread wide when I see that he makes paper from the papyrus that grows wild in the region. I am in awe; I have the distinct feeling that I am in the presence of something that I have been curious about for ages.
The walls of the shop are covered with paintings of ancient Egypt done on his paper. I know immediately that we have to buy one. This is unusual. We have 1) very little no money in our budget for souvenirs and, 2) no space in our backpacks for anything extra. But my gut tells me that this is different. We begin looking at paintings that speak to us and decide to purchase a medium sized one of 3 muses at Thebes. Wes purchases 2 small ones that will be great in his new apartment.
After me make our purchases, Ahmet brings us each a sweet bread that his wife made. We joke that we won’t share with Sayed. Our appreciation for each other is so apparent and we witness an openness of spirit in each other that sometimes happens when friends meet on a journey.
Then we sit outside longer and have kawa (Egyptian style coffee with cardamon, similar to Turkish coffee) that makes me feel high for some reason. We take pictures together, sign his guestbook, touch our heats many times saying Sukram (Egyptian Arabic for thank you). We have been here for around 2 hours and have many stops to make.
Ahmet giving us a papyrus paper making demo
After going into Ahmet’s shop
Nest stop: Dahshur. We drive until we see only desert and 2 spectacular pyramids in the distance. The nearer one, which we will visit first, has steep steps on the exterior, leading to the entrance. We go up. I fear vertigo and the dust and smog make me short of breath, but I am here and nothing will stop me. We greet the guard who surprisingly lets us take our camera inside. We enter a long, narrow cave with the ramp and rungs going down, down, down…It gets progressively narrow and dark until we reach a chamber with a set of stairs. We go up the steps and through another hallway that leads to a landing with a pit of huge stones. I feel once again the exhilarating thrill that I felt at the pyramids of Giza a few days ago. Once again, we have a pyramid all to ourselves. We exit and take a few more pictures all over the grounds.
Off to our next stop: Saqqara. But first, I need to use the bathroom. I’ve had to go since we got to Dahshur. Sayed pulls over to the guard station at the entrance. He says over and over, “Not hotel. Not nice. Egyptian bathroom.” I don’t like how he speaks of his own people. And besides I don’t care what kind of bathroom it is. I can’t be choosy. Now is the time. It’s a bathroom of the hole in the ground variety. I go in with a packet of Kleenex and hand sanitizer. My feet are slippery on the muddy floors and I hope I don’t slip because of pyramid vertigo, hunger, or kawa high. I don’t. Done. Back in the car. Off to our final stop before lunch.
It turns out that Saqqara closes in less than an hour when we get there. Sayed advises against spending money for such a short visit. We are disappointed, but he is right. We leave and he takes us to a beautiful garden restaurant nearby.
Things get awkward when we tell him that the place costs far more than we are willing to pay for a lunch. The pressure is on because the restaurant is empty. We are probably the only customers they have had all day. The political situation has hurt the tourist industry so badly that the pressure is on to spend almost everywhere we go. We say that we have to eat elsewhere, but they won’t accept no for an answer. We finally order a small plate to share. The food is delicious. Fresh Egyptian pita, delicious baba ganoush and hummus, boiled potatoes and carrots, a roasted eggplant medley, and a little coal oven of chicken and sausages, as well as a rice and veggie/tomato stew. We order another one. Sayed is happy and repeatedly asks if we are happy. “Yes!,” we say. “We are happy! Very happy!” We decide it is time to go home. I feel spent.
The sun is setting. I close my eyes as we maneuver our way through the Cairo traffic. My stomach is uneasy but my heart is full. I am grateful. The night is young. We will pack our bags and get ready to leave Cairo in the morning. A 13 hour train ride to Aswan awaits us.
When we get back to the hotel, Mat texts our next host to confirm that he will pick us up from the train station in Aswan.
His reply is a simple, “Welcome, my friend.”
Sayed in the station wagon
Truth And Travel 