Here's the Egypt trip.  During the 8 daylight hours, I snapped off 120 pictures.

Little did I know that Cairo had just suffered the worst thunderstorm in 60 years, and I had to fly right through it.  Of course on the plane I didn't know this, but I knew the rain and lightning was a bit unusual for this desert part of the world.

When we landed, everything was soaked and leaking, especially inside the airport, and even the baggage area.  I wasn't sure how to get my passport ready.  Luckily, on the plane, I sat next to Willie (no one could pronounce his Muslim name, so he went by Willie).  He was half Saudi and half Egyptian, on his way home to see his folks.  He used to live in El Monte, which I did, so we became friends in two seconds.  He instantly adopted me.  It was a good thing he did, since I would have been thrown to the wolves with what I know now.

A friend at work warned me about people at the airport and the pyramids, but he was grossly understating the journey I was about to embark upon. 

As we came out of the baggage area, this old guy with a police type uniform held his hand out and asked something in Egyptian.  Willie talked to him, then motioned me to pass him and not to pay him any money he was asking for.  I asked Willie what was going on.  Willie explained that he had no job, but he had an old uniform that looked official enough for him to ask for an "exit fee", which most tourists would pay and not question.  This is how he made his living.  This was very common.  As I found out later, he was the best of the beggars, it got much worse than this.

As usual, I was going to rent a car and explore Cairo.  You would of thought I would take it easy after England, but not me.  My friend at work told me not to rent a car.  I asked Willie how the driving was, and even he would not rent a car, or ask his parents to pick him up - I became a believer.  The reason I rent a car is for freedom and I don't trust anyone.

Willie showed me where to get a "limo".  Their version of our taxi is called a limo (some are good, some are rent-a-wrecks).  Their version of a taxi we would call rent-a-disaster.

We then started to go outside the terminal for our "limo".  Willie told me to hang on tightly to my luggage or I would never see them again.  Just as we walked outside we were greeted by four dozen "baggies".  These rag-tag poverty bitten mongrels descended on us like Real Estate agents.  I felt like a young plump chicken about to be plucked and fucked by these beggars.  As I found out, these "baggies" are only paid by the "taxi" operators, not the "limo" operators.  What they do is grab your bags, run to the taxi that they are working for, throw the bags in, and if you don't run behind them, you'll either get lost in the crowd or the taxi may take off with someone else and your baggage.

Before I could even get close to where our "limo" awaited us, Baggies were grabbing my luggage from left and right.   Willie let me take the first limo so I could escape the airport.  Even when I got my limo and driver, and handed my luggage to my driver, a Baggie grabbed the luggage from my driver and started to run to a Taxi.  I had to rip one bag right out of his arm socket.  I finally got the trunk closed and into my limo.  I've had springs in old mattress's rip my butt better than his rear seats!

This was to be the beginning of an eye opening experience.

Since I didn't know how torrential the thunderstorm was, my immediate impression was that the Nile had overflowed, or a Baggie tried to take Moses luggage and Moses parted the Nile sideways in retaliation.  The entire city was flooded.  The curbs were 12 inches high, and water was pouring over them.  All street underpasses were lakes.  Did I mention there was a shit load of water everywhere?

Now let's talk about Egyptian drivers.  If you have ever driven in Boston, that would be considered Drivers Education for driving in Saudi Arabia.  In Saudi, a left hand turn from the right lane, in a four lane street, is known as being considerate (which I did once).  Cairo makes Saudi look like the Autopia ride at Disneyland.

I didn't care what time it was, so I decided to roll up my window and give the guy signaling for a left turn his arm back!  I could actually read his watch we were so close together.  Even with marked lanes on their streets, it's a question of how many cars can fit side by side (with or without hitting each other).  The parallel parking test here is done at 60 MPH!  If you aren't on the bumper of the car in front of you, and you're not a Yugo sandwiched between two Mercedes, you're just not driving.  Did I mention the back seat had more loose springs in it than a cheap hotel bed?

So much for my first 15 minutes in Cairo.

The driver spoke Egyptian English: yes and no, neither of which were the correct responses to my questions.  After saying the name of the hotel a dozen times, he still dropped me off at the wrong hotel.  I felt safe since at the building right next door, there were two Russians at each corner carried AK-47s with stiletto's attached, ready for action (it turned out to be the Russian Embassy).  Luckily this hotel got me another "limo" to my hotel.

The Sheraton Towers was on the Nile at the southern tip of a small peninsula.  This was really cute.  The bell boys wore Fez's, a monkey would have looked cuter.  The Towers were suppose to have a great view of the pyramids (the next morning it was fogged in due to the moisture!).

I decided to pay top dollar for the limo service that the hotel offered (they wanted about 50% more than the airport limos).  This was more like a limo: a 1993 Mercedes 200 SE, with a very comfortable rear seat, no springs attached.  It came well equipped with a short pudgy semi-English speaking driver named Abdul (like who isn't named Abdul in Egypt).  I told Abdul the big sites I wanted to see (pyramids, etc.) and that I also wanted to checkout the back streets and see how the people really lived.

I've been to some sleaze bag, flea bitten hole in the wall towns in my day, but Cairo was the jewel of them all.  Then Abdul drove me into the poor section of town.  Within 10 hours I went from streets of 22 carrot gold in Riyadh to dumps of dirt clods in Cairo.

On the back roads, I saw pottery makers at work, the first Jewish Church, first Catholic church, a couple of small bazaars (flea markets), too many places to mention even if I could remember their names.

To give you an idea of how the real Egyptians lived would be to describe the pottery "factory".  In Egypt, a "factory" means anything over your head to act as a roof.  First, after driving on the curbside because the road was 18" flooded, we entered "the factory".  It looked like a road from an off road mud rally.  The individual "factory" walls were made out of mud, being held in place by whatever things were found on the streets; bottles, cans, 5 gallon metal jugs, etc.  The only thing more amazing than how the walls stayed up, was the roof.  It looked like a reject roof from Gilligans Island; it barely held water.  And of course the sanitation conditions were where ever you dropped your pants to drop a load.

These pottery factories (there was probably 3 or 4 dozen) were about 5 miles from the Nile.  The mud used in the pottery was actually taken from the banks of the Nile.  At the particular "factory" Abdul took me to, the wife and son would walk to the Nile with two 1 gallon containers each (enough to make a dozen pots).  They would do this all day long.  The father was the head pottery maker.  His tools were a round table (about 2 feet in diameter) connected by just a 2 foot high wood rod, to another round table at his feet.  He would shuffle his feet on the lower table to turn the top table, where he masterfully sculptured the mounds of mud into magnificent masterpieces.

The oven to bake the pottery was another make-shift mud and trash inferno that was fueled by whatever paper, wood, shit they could find that would burn.  Shall I describe what it smelled like?  I didn't think so.  This was also the house heating system, as the "factory" doubled for the condominium they lived in.

Abdul told me that these people were considered middle class and doing good.  I felt terrible and asked Abdul if they would be insulted if I left some money for taking their pictures.  I also forgot that the Egyptian custom was for tourists to always pay (whether its for taking their picture or them taking your picture!).

On the way back to the central part of the city, Abdul drove me by their version of musoleums (buildings to house their dead).  These buildings were also used by the poor as their permanent residences.  They were literally born, raised, and died in their "homes".  This was the real poor section of Cairo.

At some of our stops I got the noticeable impression of being a tourist herded from trap to trap.  At these "shops" I was greeted at the door by an Egyptian who was so excited to see me, as if we were long lost friends.  They would always ask what country I was from, and then exclaim to the world how they loved Americans.  After a bit of this I said I was from China to see what they would say; it worked!  My shop "hosts" would then try to sell me the most expensive thing in their shop, constantly following me around to sell everything in the shop.  I also noticed a "sitting area" for the drivers, where the drivers were at least given some red tea (their favorite beverage).  So as soon as I saw a shop host or a sitting area, I knew it was tourist trap heaven.

One place that I didn't even know to go, but Abdul knew to take me to, was the Cairo Museum.  WOW!!!!!!!!!  If there is only two things you can do in Cairo, it would be the pyramids and the museum, because everything that was inside the pyramids (and Sphinx) is in the museum.  This was also my first exposure at paying for my speechless, but sighted friend; my camera.  To take a camera into any place that charges admission costs twice what the person costs.  To take in a video camera costs four times what the person costs.

Did I happen to mention that tourism is the only income for Egyptians?

Back to the museum:  Everything from esophagus, original papyrus writings (some 15 feet long), tombs, phonetic tablets, everything you could ever imagine that was Egyptian was now in the museum.  I didn't even have to wait in line to see King Tut, or any of his wives or cousins or conquerors.  The museum was 300 feet long, 300 feet wide and 3 stories packed with antiquities.  I could have spent days in there, but I only stayed a couple of hours (but I did take more photos than any Japanese tourist).  There were dozens of Egyptian art students recreating the phonetic tablets, pharaoh statues, and ancient writings.

And then the pyramids.  Double WOW !!  Abdul also warned me about the "tour guides" (which my friend at work warned me about).  My friend at work told me you have to be hostile or you'll be in for a good financial plucking.  Again an understatement.

When I got out of the car, a dozen "tour guides" swooped down upon me like vultures, each vying for the coveted position of Head Tourist Trapper.  After yelling at them that I had a tour guide (my driver), I got rid of about 8 of them.  I zigged and zagged like a line backer through them towards to left side of the pyramid to get this one special shot I wanted with the sun at the top of the pyramid (the clouds kept moving in and out so I didn't know when I would get this photographic opportunity again).  I was able to knock off another 2 tour guides by this time.  Got my photos and started heading over to the right side of the pyramid, with 2 tour guides in close pursuit, with me constantly yelling at them to go away and leave me alone. 

One tour guide grabbed my arm.  I told him if he didn't let go I would "rip it out through his asshole".  Luckily near the right side was a real Egyptian policeman who drove off these last 2 "tour guides".  As I found out, that was his only job, to keep the packs of "tour guides" off the tourists.  Besides the tour guides, there were camel jockeys that wanted you to go for camel rides or have your pictures taken with them.  They would also take your picture, then demand money for doing it.  I couldn't believe how hostile I had to be to be left alone.

At the second pyramid, this experienced tourist, now easily barked off the local tour guide dogs.  As I approached the entrance (this one was free to go inside), another Egyptian dressed in a white official looking uniform approached me.  My immediate reply was that I didn't need a tour guide.  This guy had a better approach, he was the "Watch Guard" on duty (there was no policeman in sight) and that he did not take money and was there for tourist assistance.   I blew him off as I started into the entrance, which was pitch black. I wasn't sure what to do.  The tunnel was only about four feet in diameter.

Just then, a policeman came out of the pyramid with another tourist.  The cop said the lights were out, but he could take me down with a candle.  It turned out to be a small birthday candle.  This was the adventure I was looking for.  The tunnel went down at about a 45 degree angle.  The only way down was crouching down, walking side step, on a wooden plank that had strips of wood sideways so you didn't slide all the way down to the pit of the pyramid.  I felt just like an Egyptian slave, voraciously making my way down by the illumination of a tiny flame.  In the bowels of the pyramid, the candle wasn't enough illumination to see anything, so I started taking flash photos to see what the cop was pointing to.  Mostly empty cambers, everything was at the Museum.  It was still exciting to crawl around like the slaves did, in the environment that they probably spent their entire lives in.

Back outside, here comes the "Watch Guard".  He wants to show me something on the pyramid.  I reply "Right.  How much will this cost?"  He again says he doesn't accept money.  He shows me some writings on the side of the pyramid, which are too worn to read.  I start to leave.  Unknown to me, he comes around from behind me and plucks my camera from my arm.  I'm chasing him, yelling for my camera, while he says he'll take my picture.  He stops over by an old crusty camel jock and a one humped flea bitten mobile glue factory.  This old guy starts clothing me with some old Bedouin (camel jockey) gowns.  I try keeping this stuff off, but finally let the old man dress me. 

I figure I'll let the Watch Guard take a photo, then I can get my camera and escape.  They want me to get on the camel and I flatly refuse (I'm still in a lot of pain from the England car crash).  After the picture and disrobing, here comes the hands for money.  Since the old man didn't deceive me, I offer one American dollar.  The Watch Guard protests and demands I give him $5.  I say take it or leave it as I pace towards my limo for an immediate escape.  They still refuse until I start to put the $1 in my pocket and the old man accepts and returns to his camel.  The Watch Guard now demands that I pay him for taking the pictures.  I'm still 30 feet from my escape.  I tell him that he lied and he wasn't getting one penny.  He tries to keep me from getting into the car.  I knock him out of the way with the door.  I should have given him something since he was able to keep up with us at 20 MPH with the car door handle still clutched in his hand.  Oh, well.

Next on the tour was the Egyptian version of a Kodak photo location.  From atop his knoll, you could get a great shot of all three pyramids, and the "little three" pyramids to the south of them.  The "little three" contained the wives from the well know pyramids of Giza.  You learn something new everyday.  On this knoll they had a flea market, yes there were fleas too.  Also, as soon as I took out my camera, several beggars demanded money for taking pictures of their pyramids.  Sorry guys, the buck stopped at the last pyramid.  Another break away get away.

Onto the Sphinx.  By this time, whenever any Egyptian approached me, I raised my fist in defiance and yelled obscenities to discourage them.  I was left alone for the first time.  I reach puberty in Egyptian tourism.  The Sphinx needs a lot of repair, which the Egyptians were trying, but didn't have the technical know how to fix the face; it needs a nose job badly.  I saw a Japanese tour group and one poor girl that looked like she wanted her picture taken, but didn't want to get taken by a tour guide.  I told her I would take her picture for free.  She of course reciprocated the gesture and we both laughed about it.

The tour continued, but I was running out of daylight and new things to see.  Even Abdul was getting tired.  We had been going non stop since 8:00 in the morning.  It was about 5:00 with an hour of light left.  I had asked Abdul several times if he wanted to stop to eat.  I guess he either only eats once a day, or got something at one of his tourist trap stops.  With the last hour, I wanted to visit the largest bazaar known to Egyptians, the El Khan Bazaar.

The El Khan Bazaar covered one square mile.  It's also where the locals went.  After the first ten dozen shops, everything started to look the same.  This was tourist trap mania.  It seemed that after 10 or 12 shops they just started repeating the shops.  I now realized that Abdul had taken me to the better tourist traps.  The better tourist traps cost a little more, but the quality was actually better.

The best example of this was the "Egypt Papyrus Institute".  Before this stop, at an earlier stop, a street peddler tried to sell me some papyrus.  Abdul said to wait for this stop.  At the Egypt Papyrus Institute, my shop host taught me how papyrus was made, and how to recognize real papyrus from imitations (including banana papyrus which is what the street vendor was trying to sell me).  The real papyrus is indestructible (hence the 4000 year old papyrus in the museum looks like it is a week old). 

The day is done.  After 10 hours, even Abdul was having a hard time finding more things to see.  We covered 100 miles inside the city within 10 hours, probably Abdul's new record.

For my limo and personal tour guide, it only cost me $100 American.  I probably saved at least $30 from his advice and help.  Not to mention I would have paid a lot more for parking tickets, bent fenders, and dead Egyptians.

At the airport, the limo bill came up to 355 Egyptian pounds.  I handed Abdul 360.  He meekly asked if he could keep the 5 pounds (about $1.50 American).  I said no and for him to hold out his hand.  I said here's 10 pounds for you, 10 pounds for your wife, and 60 pounds for your six children.  To say the least Abdul was a happy camper.  I found out later that 80 pounds was about two weeks wages for Abdul.

For coming into a country where you better know what you are doing, I lucked out.  Chalk up another adventure for Garbage Grove Jerry, and the Nile of poop.