When I got off the plane in Cairo, Egypt I knew right away, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, that I was a far way from home. I lived in Maine for most of my life and except for the few trips to Canada, I had never really been outside the United States. I went to Cairo in March and I had left Maine with a coat on, praying it wouldn't snow and ruin takeoff. By the time I reached Egypt a day later, I had shed the coat, changed into a lighter shirt and wished I had a portable fan. It is warm, warm enough to be in shorts, which is something that both myself and my mother, who is traveling with me, are not used to seeing in the month of March. A man greets us, from the travel company we were using, and takes us to exchange our American dollars to Egyptian pounds. Afterwards we pick up our luggage and walk to meet our Egyptian tour guide, Amr.
Not only was the temperature a shock, but also the whole culture itself. Cairo, with a population of almost 9 million seemed very large and crowed to me, a person who lives in a small Maine town of 997 people. After being picked up and driven to the hotel, I had a chance to look at some of the 500 Cairo mosques and building, which in a city with the majority of the inhabitants being Muslim, adorned nearly every block. Along with the Mosques were the many-leveled apartments that housed the Cairo Inhabitants, a place called "The City of the Dead." Over half the city lives there, a living cemetery that crams people together much like trailer parks. We drive to our hotel, but this Cairo, a city with twenty million residents, and driving is not easy. “Everyone drives pretty fast in Cairo,” said Amr, in perfect English. “But we hardly ever have accidents.” Egyptians do not, however, have many driving laws. There is much horn blowing and sharp turns into traffic; yet surprisingly no one wears seat belts. I exchange looks with my mother and decided it was a small miracle that we made it to the hotel. After resting there the night, Amr assures us that he would pick us up in the morning to tour the great pyramids.
In the same city that houses the City of Dead, there are ancient pyramids and a gigantic sphinx. As my mother and I look up at the Pyramids of Giza, I marvel at the fact that such things are still standing today. Some of the stone is falling apart and some of the pyramids are missing pieces. Still, tourists can walk right up to the pyramids and as the base; vendors and camels roam the outskirts, looking to sell their wares. For those who have not been, the pyramids are a breathtaking work of art. Built in the 4th century BCE, they still stand magically today. “Be careful of people looking to sell you things,” warned Amr as he let us out of the car. “ And watch for people looking for baksheesh.” Baksheesh isan Arabic word for tips, something that are often asked for by vendors or anyone who happens to help you even for a minute. We get out of the car and walk towards the pyramids, confident that we can handle anything that comes our way.
The first man we encounter gives us a present, a scarab beetle (a good luck charm in Egypt). He then offers to take our picture, but heeding the words of Amr, we say “no” and walk away. He follows us, realizing we are different than the average American tourist who might come his way. “If you will not pay baksheesh, then I went the present back,” he demands of us. We oblige and continue to make our way around the pyramid. No sooner have we turned the corner when we come into contact with a man looking to sell us his wears. He picks up one of the gifts he is trying to sell and precedes to place to a white head scarf on my head. “No, no, I do not need a scarf, I'm not interested!” I protest vigorously, but it makes no difference as the vendor continues to beg me to buy. Meanwhile, my mother is walking ahead of me, gesturing me to come. “I must leave now,” I tell the man. I am finally able to run away and continue looking at the pyramids. The excitement was not over for the day however, because Amr decides to take us on a ride on a camel near the Sphinx.
