The Oxford English Dictionary defines culture shock as the “feeling of disorientation experienced by someone when they are suddenly subjected to an unfamiliar culture, way of life, or set of attitudes”. My princess describes culture shock as “it’s bonkers out there”. Our hotel in Cairo was in the heart of the Arabic quarter. Narrow streets surrounded by many old and magnificent buildings thronged with people and lined with many small shops and cafes. We arrived late afternoon and set off, just after dusk, to find something to eat. Immediately we were stuck by the cacophony of noise. Every other shop was blaring out music. Loud and distorted as the straining amplifiers were pushed to their limits. The narrow, cobbled roads were packed with people, dogs, motorbikes, small trucks and the odd car. There were also street artists, stilt-walkers, dervishes, musicians, beggars, people pushing carts or balancing loads on their head. Occasionally we spot some other tourists but for the most part it was local people out for the evening. Friday night in downtown Cairo is truly bonkers.
It was hot, well over 30°C, sweaty and noisy. We worked our way through the crowds past a myriad of shops, bazars, coffee houses and local artisans. After a good twenty minutes of slow progress, we found a café selling cheese and mushroom patties. These turned out to be two layers of thin bread with a filling. Very tasty but we barely got a moments peace to enjoy them. One of the essential commercial models in Egypt is to stand in front of your mark holding your goods and repeating the price many times while looking pleadingly. We had someone trying to sell henna decorations for Diane’s hand, twice. There were cigarette lighters, t-shirts, fridge magnet, scarves and several types of shawl presented to us all before our order had arrived. I was also offered a genuine Rolex watch – but I didn’t bother because I has already bought one in Morocco several years ago. Even with the patties in front of us there was no relenting. Every few seconds someone else would appear asking for a few dollars and refusing to the believe that we did not want a Chinese mass-produced replica of the sun god Ra.
There is an area of Cairo dominated by western style hotels. There are bars in this area frequented by Europeans. There are licenced liquor stores where you can pick up a bottle for your room. We were a long way from there. In the Arabic quarter they have no use for alcohol. Google assured me that the nearest place we could buy a drink was about five miles away. Given the taxi and traffic situation, this may as well have been on the moon. No Dutch comfort to help us through these challenging times then.
Back in our hotel room there was some blessed relief from the heat. The air conditioning was not great but it did work. Occasionally the fan made an alarming clattering noise as if several important components were about to fall out but then, after some stuttering, it kept going. The noise from outside, however, was showing no hint of abating. Friday night. Party night. We guessed they might turn the music down by midnight. We were wrong. It was at least 2am. Obviously, we deployed ear plugs. They helped, a bit, but with a line of shop speakers directly outside our room, all cranked up to 11, we could feel the noise through our bones.
Next day, Diane was beginning to come to terms with the environment. We had an easy day and in the evening went out for a meal and a show. The meal was at a lovely rooftop restaurant with a view of the pyramids. On the way we had caught our first views of the pyramids and could not help but be a little excited. The food was reasonable. A pot of stewed vegetables with rice. The wine was non-existent. Sparkling water was the most exciting drink they served. Many of the other diners were drinking fizzy sparkling drinks. Bottles of cola or other highly sweetened chemicals. I have always thought of these as kids drinks – although they are unbelievably bad for kids. Quite how the over-sweetened stuff goes with a savoury meal is something that I don’t think my taste buds can stretch to.
The show involved light and sound and the pyramids. Big, coloured lights, an ancient wall used as a projection screen and yet more big speakers. It was fun. The Sphinx turned out to be smaller than I expected. Undeterred by a slightly crackly speaker, it narrated the story of ancient Egypt to us in rich, expansive terms. It also explained how the pyramids were built to stand for eternity and defeat death. The three largest pyramids were illuminated in diverse hues to emphasise the point. It was fun if possibly a bit demeaning to magnificent ancient monuments. That night, Saturday night, the partying went on, again, to 2am.
Next morning we set off to properly get to grips with the pyramids. That they are big is the first and most obvious statement to make. Also, they are a massive tourist pull and locals are clearly embracing that for all it is worth. We had a guide, a young Egyptologist called Mayo, who proved to be very enlightening. Like many historical sites we have visited, you really need a guide. The whole system is set up to encourage this. Without a guide you will save some money but you will have to work out how to get around and what to see. You will also have to live without any explanations or information. Sometimes it is easier to go with the flow. On the Giza plateau are the three great pyramids of Cheops (Khufu), Chephren (Khafre), and Mykerinus (Menkaure). The smallest of these, Mykerinus, at a mere 62m was our first stop. Here we could go inside the structure. There is not a lot see. All the interesting things were stolen centuries ago. Still, it was fun. At the bottom of the tunnel we found a very friendly man who insisted on taking our photograph. Tipping is endemic in Egypt. Anyone who does anything, at all, for you expects to be tipped. Taking a photo, posing for a photo, showing you his camel, lifting or pushing anything, offering advice, helping you across the road – it all needs a tip. Frankly it is a complete pain. I think the tipping culture in general is essentially toxic. When it is ramped up to Egyptian levels it really starts get in the way of doing anything. Tourists are an important cash cow to Egypt, one that they are milking for all it is worth. We paid the man for his services and made our way back out. I had hoped the inside of a pyramid would be cool. It is not. We emerged, blinking in the sunlight, hot and sweaty.
We wandered around the other pyramids but were not allowed inside them. We declined several offers of a camel ride. We did not even buy any of the Chinese mass-produced replica statues of Ra, although there were plenty on offer. Eventually we arrived at the Sphinx. There was some fairly assertive queuing needed to get to the vantage point. I grabbed a couple of photographs and wondered where the speaker was concealed.
Later in the day we visited the Serapeum of Saqqara. This was the ancient Egyptian burial place for sacred bulls of the Apis cult at Memphis. It was believed that the bulls were incarnations of the god Ptah. They would become immortal after death. The animals were incarcerated in granite sarcophagi weighing around 40 tonnes. The lid added a further 25 tonnes. The Serapeum was abandoned at the beginning of the Roman Period. Subsequent looting and desecration left the temple in a sorry state and it later became buried in sand. It was rediscovered by Auguste Mariette in 1850. He found the head of one sphinx sticking out of the shifting desert dunes, cleared the sand and followed the avenue to the site. One of the sarcophagi was still intact so he blew it open with dynamite. This was the enthusiastic way of the Victorians. Sadly, the sarcophagus was empty.
We had a look inside a nearby temple. Nothing really visible at all from the surface but lots of interesting hieroglyphs inside. Finally, we visited the Step Pyramid of Djoser. Another massive structure, this one sits atop a labyrinth of tunnels and chambers 6 km long. We were not allowed inside them but by then we were hot, sweaty and tired. Quite happy to head back to our noisy hotel room. Even on Sunday night the street partying goes on until 2am.
