Shamba za Cairo (Part Two)

As we approach the lump that’s rising out of the morning haze, it starts to take the familiar form of the siphinix, and it becomes evident that we’re approaching it from behind. I admire her from the side, can’t touch her because she’s got a wall (and lots of space) around her, and there’s scaffolding around her body, indicating that maintenance work is going on. I smile at her and whisper that she is more beautiful that I’d imagined, especially considering all she’s seen and been through. I move to face her and take pictures from that angle. I happen to make a 180 degree turn, away from her face, and see 2 interesting things. The first is several bus loads of school kids - it’s great that Egyptian school kids are given the opportunity to learn about their history early. I look further off in that same direction and spot a KFC and pizza hut, right outside the pyramid complex. Ah well… have gusto for pyramid tours will need fueling after the grueling expedition to Giza, yes?

We walk back to the taxi and fairly fly off to the vantage point from which all 3 pyramids are visible, clicking away. On the way there we encounter lots of large black boxes by the road and are told that it’s filming equipment. There’s yet another a Hollywood movie being shot close to the 3rd (smallest) pyramid… don’t quite get the title of the film but sure it’ll be out soon enough.
Then it’s off to Khan el Khalil, the tourist bazaar. On the way there we catch a glimpse of Cairo in all its glory: a forest of high-rise buildings with a riot of satellite dishes strapped onto balconies and roof tops (they have 7-8 local tv channels, with satellite tv adding to the choice. Arabsat rocks!), loads of unbelievably insane traffic, and lots of history.

Cairo: a treat for your wits, and if you’re competitive, a chance to become über-competitive. Think you’re a ninja? A master con-artist? A force to be reckoned with in the world of bargaining? Well then, consider Le Caire the World Championships.

We arrive at Khan el Khalil and agree on a pick-up time and place with the taxi driver. Before we exit the car, we ask him if there are lots of pick pockets at this bazaar. He assures us there aren’t. Very skeptical and suspicious, we enter the area with trepidation… After a couple of minutes, we understand why there aren’t any/many pick pockets: the place is crawling with ‘tourism and antiquities’ police, complete with barriers, dogs, and hard-looking police. At the sign of any altercation, tourism police show up to break it up. Talk about folk who live in fear of violence value their tourism industry!

I stop at a café on the square (can see at least 3 mosques from here), and order a glass of chai rangi without asking how much it will cost. They bring ‘Egyptian tea’ which is essentially a glass with tea leaves settled at the bottom, and hot water that’s getting darker by the second sitting on top of the leaves (sieve? What is that?). A tight bunch of mint stems sitting in a glass of water is plopped onto the center of the table. I stir in sugar and mint leaves (clamping down on my paranoia about: what pesticide was sprayed onto these mint leaves? Were they washed before being put before me? How many flies have landed on top of them so far?). Sip slowly, savoring the flavor and the brief moment of respite. While seated there, a mute man approaches, trying to sell leather wallets. I decline, but he insists - all this in sign language, by the way – and affords me the ‘aha’ moment that here, I might as well also be mute, ‘cause the extent of my vocabulary in Arabic cannot be beyond 10 words (shukran, ishirini through sabini, yaani, khalas, inshallah). This interaction highlights the indispensability of calculators in business transactions. He produces a cigarette lighter from the pocket of his galabea and holds its flame against the surface of the wallet in his hand. Just as he concludes this impressive demonstration, he is bundled away by the café proprietors – done with lots of noise (he can only defend himself using body language and sounds) and shoving.

A couple of minutes later, a non-mute guy, obviously a friend-of-the-proprietors, appears and tries to sell wallets very similar to the ones mute man had. He repeats the flame-against-leather demo, explaining that if it was pleather, it would melt, but because it is 100% genuine real leather, it doesn’t. (Still haven’t had the courage to confirm this on any of my leather stuff… I might not get the angle right, and end up scorching a valued item). Purchase: not made.

I finish sipping past the dregs of agitated tea leaves while asking for the bill. The proprietor, without batting an eyelid, quotes 15 L.E., or $3 USD. WT..? For unsieved chai rangi with leaves of mint? He explains that they’ve got overhead to take care of. I notice a couple of tourism police looking my way, and decide I won’t spend my ‘tourist protection units’ on an altercation about the price of tea in Khan el Khalil. I grudgingly pay said amount and make a note to self: do not to consume anything else before asking the price, and then move into the packed alleys to begin the shopping spree.

Khan el Khalil, a study in the psychology of selling, the ultimate in the bazaar experience. What do you envisage as ‘the bazaar experience’? If it’s haggling until you’re mouth is dry of saliva, your knees are weak from standing and walking, and your head is spinning and pounding from all the merchants trying to convince you that theirs is the genuine/cheaper article, then you’re in the right place. And I am in hog heaven (grin). But the haggling business gets old very quickly, especially when you move to the next stall/shop and find the article you’re patting yourself on the back for having acquired at 70 L.E. (after bargaining yourself hoarse for 20 minutes – it had started out costing 120 L.E) is being quoted as starting at 60 L.E. The day progresses, as does my familiarity with the tourist kitsch on offer. I become a more discerning buyer.

Now, somewhere in China, seated beside the sweat shop assembly-line artists busy imitating Kenyan kikois, kiondos, and South African beadwork, is a team highly skilled at producing authentic hand-painted ‘Egyptian German Porcelain’ and genuine Egyptian souvenirs. Everyone walahi’s! that it’s all made in Egypt, but I finally find an honest(ish) broker who responds to my “it looks like it’s Made in China” with: “even in your country, many things, they are made-it in China” (true dat). “In Egypt, only two things guaranteed made-it in Egypt: benzene (petrol) and cotton”… all bets are off for any other items. I laugh at his disclosure and mention that he too looks like he’s made-it in China (a reference to his physical features which do not look quintessentially Arabic). He informs me that Egypt has many 'looks' and his is that of an orthodox Christian. When you ask “Egyptian belt?” and the answer is yes, it’s probably because it’s being sold by an Egyptian. To get the right answer, it’s all about asking nuancing your question correctly.

Egypt for me has generated 2 kinds of excitement: the excitement to get here, and the impatience to get out! I am the first at the check-in line at departures, and because it’s still too early, I’m sent away. I make a wonderful discovery: free wireless internet is available at the Cairo airport! I get some breakfast and spend an hour entertaining myself on the internet.

I finally land at my destination, go through passport control, claim my baggage and start to exit the terminal building. I find myself dissolving into a fit of giggles. Have just spotted the sign: “something to declare” and remembered that scene in SNATCH where Avi returning to the US empty-handed, is asked at customs, “Anything to declare?” and responds: “Yeah. Don’t go to Egypt England”. But of course no sane person would pay attention to any such declaration…

It was worth the trip to touch the building blocks and whisper to the siphinix. Would I return? Only if it were to be a surgical insertion into Luxor (to experience that whole Ramses temple phenomenon - the lighting up of the temple… and of course, the wall of war trophies).

Much later, I am asked if I heard any muidini's call to prayer. I think back and realize I didn't notice it. Ah well, if I did hear it, it wasn't a cacophony.