Episode 22: Nights Over Egypt

There’s a star in the east

over pyramids at Giza.
There had once

lived a girl,

she ruled the world.
Then down the Nile

he came with a smile.

— Cynthia Biggs &

Dexter Wansel, 1981

Saturday fun in Fairmount Heights, Maryland, during the Summer of '77, usually consisted of me and my baby brother Jamie locking ourselves away in our bedroom for hours re-imagining the Star Wars saga with our latest Kenner figurines. Three years before the long-awaited release of Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, the second film and sequel to Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, at the ripe ages of 6 and 4, me and my baby bro were already plotting-out our very own sequel to the latter with the sophistication of men of 64. Our sequel was so imaginative and creative, had Mr. Lucas got wind of it — there's a strong chance that he would have second guessed his now classic sequel that was in the works.

But Saturdays weren't always fun and games for us in the Summer of '77. Growing up under a sometimes strict Islamic faith meant that some Saturdays our family, who would soon make a quick conversion to Christianity 3 years later, was often found worshiping at the Masjid Muhammad on New Jersey Avenue and 4th street N.W., Washington DC — a place I remember dreading to go.

And before I continue, people who know me well, know that I am not a fan of discussing faith, belief or religion — mainly because I have very little knowledge of the subjects and partly because I am far too agnostic to give any answers — which is probably why the only fond memories that I have of the old mosque days are those freshly-baked bean pies and donuts that I smelled during and devoured quickly after service. The artistic side of me vividly remembers the exotic-like beautiful interior of the mosque.

And the ever-so-silly side of me remembers the many times Jamie and I tried our best to hold back the laughing and giggling we did throughout the seemingly all day long service. For some reason we got the biggest chuckle out of the adhan, or call to prayer, and the bowing-like praying style of the Islamic faith. Man, If we'd gotten caught laughing, I'm sure there would have been the most serious repercussions from the minister and most importantly — our mom and dad. But the danger of getting caught made it all the more funnier in our eyes. So we took our chances every service.

Anyway, you can bet your bottom dollar that just as soon as Jamie and I got home after service, we torpedoed to our bedroom and played with our Star Wars figurines until we were called down for supper.

I guess you can say

Star Wars was like our own little secret religion.

We'd play all night and skip dinner, if allowed — unless our favorite television programs were on the tube or my mom's spaghetti and meatballs were on the stove. Everybody loved mom's spaghetti and meatballs and wouldn't miss it for the world.

Looking back on my childhood days now, I can see what captivated and inspired me most about the whole Star Wars saga — what kept me playing, imagining and re-watching, my still number one favorite film of all time, over and over again — it was the yearning and need that main character Luke Skywalker had to get away from his isolated life on his home planet Tatooine and explore strange and far away destinations.

At 6 years old I could relate to Luke's dreams. I too hoped there was a galaxy far, far away that I could someday venture off to. But At 6, I also knew that I was too small to make anything like that happen anytime soon. So about 10 years later, after I'd finally reached Luke's age, I learned the hard cold fact that if there was really a galaxy far, far away, I'd never be able to reach it — well, at least not in my lifetime. But even in my late teens, after I finally stopped playing with Star Wars figurines, I never gave up the dream. Instead of freaking out my mother by transforming into one of them crazed Star Wars' freaks running around loose pretending to be a real-life Jedi Master, I thankfully acquired a rather healthy and earthly substitute for that fantastical galaxy far, far away in my Star Wars-washed brain. I began to study and learn about vastly different countries and cultures throughout the world.

Countries like Brazil, India, Australia, China, and Mozambique — just to name a small few — seemed a world away from my North American life and stimulated my interest. But of all my studies and readings of different countries and societies, there was no other that did it for me like the ancient civilization known as Egypt. Next to its famous monuments and ruins — Egypt just seemed the most strikingly mysterious and unreachably different. Other than the Moon, you can bet your bottom dollar that it has always been uppermost on my list of dream destinations.

Well, last Christmas my dream became a reality. It was a long time coming, but I could finally, and might I add pleasurably, scratch Egypt off the top of my list. And after some small obstacles and a little adjustments during my nights over Egypt — Sarah's gift now stands as the greatest Christmas present I'd ever received. Here's how it all went down...

This past Christmas I hesitantly opted out of visiting family and friends in the States to do more world traveling. So a few days before Sarah left to visit her family in Minnesota, we celebrated a wonderful little Christmas of our own, just like last year in Sofia, only our tree wasn't quite as pathetic as the Charlie Brown-like one before.

Sarah had already told me what she'd plan to get me for Christmas a whole staggering month before, mainly to make sure I really wanted it — and to snag it at a reasonable price. But when she handed me the Christmas wrapped envelope containing a round trip airline ticket to Egypt, I was still more excited than Ralphie Parker finally getting to open a gift containing a Red Ryder BB Gun.

After I felt the ticket in hand — the excitement ceased. You see, the hard cold fact that I would be traveling alone in a third world country hit me like a Mack truck. And if you know me well, or have been keeping up with The Blog-O-Daria Series, then you already know that in the past I have never been a fan of traveling solo. But in recent times, after so many solo travels, I've developed an appreciation for it. And during this latest solo outing, I think I actually like the idea of traveling alone just as equal as traveling with friends.

But the most difficult aspect of traveling alone is building up the courage to take the first step to do it. I still get extremely nervous about it. And Sarah, who knows me all too well, can always sense my fears right from the beginning. So accompanying the gift wrapped envelope, was a complete detailed agenda of my 10 day stay along with a spectacular book on Egyptian travel.

This gave me the confidence I needed to take the first step. Sarah's agenda listed every single city, hotel, hostel, train and in some cases — the exact times I should reach and leave a destination. I was thankful to have such a seasoned traveling lady in my life.

Can't restrain these feelings of my ancient land
Here is a melody for you
Sky of white and nylon blue
Let me hurry home to you

— Chaka Khan & David Wolinski, 1977

Six days before Christmas, I anxiously and carefully packed my bags for Egypt. Still an avid believer in packing lightly, I thought of everything I would need that wouldn't take up too much space in my bag — making sure there was room for a couple issues of MOJO and my Little Silver iPod. Just seconds before I was out the door, I remembered Sarah advising me that in Egypt it would be extremely hot in the day and extremely cold at night —especially in the desert. So I swiftly grabbed a couple of warm sweater-shirts and was off for Egypt!

The flight down lasted 3 hours including an extra hour layover in Istanbul that reminded me of my first ever trip to an Islamic country. I was also, ironically, traveling solo and survived. This wonderful memory gave me some more needed confidence.

I arrived in Cairo, the capital city of Egypt and largest city in all of Africa, during the night. The first thing I observed, or felt in this case, was just how absolutely correct Sarah was about the weather at night — it was indeed cold. Real cold. At Sarah's suggestion, I stayed at the posh-like Novotel Cairo Airport Hotel where I enjoyed one memorable night in a warm comfy bed and on-the-dot room service. You'll find out soon how my plush stay at the Novotel Hotel would later distort my view of what I expected out of Egyptian lodging.

In the morning, a beautiful Egyptian girl working the Novotel front desk called me a pre-paid taxi to my next lodging destination. She also gave me a lesson in converting dollars to Egyptian pounds — and a quick run down of how many pounds I should tip during my stay. I thanked her, but thought it was rather unusual that she was seemingly emphasizing so much importance on tipping in Egypt. So much so, that when my taxi finally arrived, I made sure to gave her one! But when I extended my hand, she just smirked and said, "no, thank you. You'll need that for later." I just shrugged my shoulders and thanked her again.

The taxi ride through Cairo to my next lodging destination was one of the most intensifying drives of all of my nights over Egypt. Cairo, a city ranked as one of the most populated in the world, needed no help proving this to me. You see, as I gazed out the window of my gnat infested old worn out taxi, I observed countless numbers of people and automobiles chaotically packed into each block of the city like canned sardines.

My next observation would prove to be another top ranking on my own list. Until my stay in Egypt, I thought Bulgarian drivers were the most dangerous, unsafe, and selfish drivers of them all — well, there's nothing like perspective, baby — because Egyptian drivers would easily make Bulgarian drivers look like children riding their tricycles to Sunday school. During my entire smog-filled drive through Cairo, I constantly took deep breaths, hoping I wouldn't die a slow painful death due an accident from the most dangerous drivers I'd ever witnessed in my life.

Hellishly hasty automobile and helmet-less motorcycle drivers carelessly zigzagged through traffic jams ignoring anything resembling a painted line on the streets. The sounds of ever-so-frequent beeps and honks became almost musical-like. So much so, that at times I could have sworn the horn section from Parliament-Funkadelic was right there performing live in the city. Well, I asked for my Star Wars-like adventure, and here it was front and center. It was purely unreal! I guess this is one of the top reasons why they call it third world. None of the traffic rules applied there or seemed to be enforced.

Anyway, after my forty-five minute death ride, I finally arrived in one piece at the Meramees Hostel located in the heart of Downtown Cairo. The taxi driver, who uttered maybe one or two words to me the entire time, most likely due to a lack of English, went beyond the call of duty. After he parked his taxi on the side of a busy and bustling street, he quickly got out and escorted me up several flights of stairs, carrying both of my bags in hand. It was at this moment, when I started to realize why that Novotel desk girl was emphasizing the importance of tipping here.

This dude must have really wanted one desperately.

Of course I gave him a good one — and bigger than what the Novotel desk girl advised. I thought to myself, "it will probably be one of the few times I tip anyone here, so I might as well hook a brother up." You'll find out soon just how wrong I was. Stay with me.

Anyway, remember when I mentioned how the Novotel Hotel would distort my view of typical lodging place in Egypt? Good, because you can bet your bottom dollar that when you read The Blog-O-Daria Series it's going to be all about truth and honesty here. You see, Novotel and Maramees were worlds apart. Both had the warm and friendly on-the-dot service, but my bed and room at Maramees looked like it just survived a war. For example, the bed had a dip in the middle and the room was freezing cold. Real cold. Oh, and I refuse to even discuss the wash room. But I doubt if that was Maramees fault — when hosteling, a little wash room disgust comes with the territory. Needless to say, after my stay at Maramees and other not so desirable lodgings, Novotel seemed one in a million.

All the bazaar men by the Nile
They got the money on a bet
Gold crocodiles, oh whey oh —
They snap their teeth on your cigarette

— Liam Sternberg, 1986

The first person I met at Marmees was the owner, an Egyptian dude named Muhammad. He was tall, slender, stylish and sported a huge curly afro. Sound familiar? Yeah, I know — this dude looked just like me! And not just because of his curly afro, he really looked just like me! He could have been my doppelganger. It was kind of trippy.

Actually, his uncanny resemblance threw me for a loop, because to be quite honest, before I arrived in Egypt, I ignorantly assumed that all Egyptians looked more like your typical middle eastern person — you know, straight black hair and light olive skin complexion. But as I took a walk around Downtown Cairo, I discovered that Egypt is a vastly diverse culture in terms of different shades of skin and hair types that range from the darkest to the lightest and the straightest to the curliest.

But the trippiest discovery of them all was learning how every single Egyptian I came across during my nights over Egypt thought I was Egyptian. When I answered "no, I'm not Egyptian," they looked at me as if I were pulling their legs or something. It was quite fascinating. And being mistaken as an Egyptian was kind of a huge compliment for me, considering that I thought Egyptian people, including the men, were strikingly beautiful. (Clears throat.)

My resem-blance to Egyptians is also a good segue way to explain why the Novotel girl was so insistent on telling me the im-portance of tipping and why my taxi driver was so helpful. You see, after spending a day in downtown Cairo, I found out rather quickly that Egyptians were extremely prone to baksheesh, a term used to describe tipping or charitable giving, and certain forms of political corruption and bribery in the Middle East and South Asia. In Egypt the baksheeshing, as I have so lovingly verbalized it, was mainly aimed at foreigners, particularly of the typical white-blue-eyed English speaking or East Asian persuasion.

I became somewhat familiar with this term after exploring Istanbul, where baksheeshing was pretty prevalent, only there, it was a bit more aggressive in nature in terms of feeling threatened or fear of confrontation when not giving a tip. In Egypt, the baksheeshing was still extremely aggressive, but I never once felt fear or confrontation. The Egyptians were actually very gentlemen-like when baksheesing, sometimes even politely thanking you even after a person didn't give or buy anything.

Nevertheless, the baksheeshing, especially of my fellow tourist, became so extremely annoying, that in order to enjoy our stay, we tried to make light of it. I even started a running joke amongst friends whenever we were approached by aggressive baksheeshers by singing aloud the phrase Baksheesh in Motion, after the Mel & Tim '69 classic "Backfield In Motion." And since I was constantly mistaken as an Egyptian, for the majority of my time in Egypt, the baksheeshing wasn't quite as bad for me. But to make positively sure that the baksheesher's stayed off my back — I hid my camera and walked like an Egyptian at all times. No pun intended.

It was like being undercover actually. One night me and Chris, a fellow ex-pat living in Norway and the first of the very few American tourists I'd meet during my stay, put my Egyptian looks to the test. He thought it would be quite funny and interesting if I went up to some European-looking tourists and baksheeshed them to see if I really looked like an Egyptian. Well, before I could even open my mouth and put my hand out, the tourists ran away as fast as they could. It was a pretty awful and cruel trick to pull, but also quite fascinating to discover that even my fellow foreigners thought I looked Egyptian.

This incident also brings to mind my celebrity status and just how active it was in Egypt. And you might have already guessed that it wasn't really active at all. Well, at least not with the tourists. With the Egyptians, particularly the youth, after they realized I was American, some would request if they could take a picture with me or shake my hand.

Anyway, after Chris and I returned from our walk exploring downtown Cairo, filled with tons of beautiful mosques abound, were I got the most interesting observation of

women, as well as the men, embracing and holding hands in public

, sometimes displaying the most well balanced skills carrying a bag or even a giant pan of bread on their heads, we both agreed that we wouldn't waste any more time waiting to see what most tourists come to see in Egypt — the amazing Pyramids of Giza. So at Sarah's suggestion to take a horse ride to the pyramids at sunrise, we signed up for the earliest morning tour possible.

During this time, since I was traveling solo, unfortunately, Sarah's wonderfully detailed agenda was ousted after Muhammed cleverly convinced me to sign up for the Amigo Tour, a tour group made up of solo travelers. He said it would be a good way to meet other travelers, making the trip more memorable. Part of this package included a 2 day felucca sail on the Nile River — the fearful part of the package I really wasn't looking forward to.

And although Egyptians appeared to be some of the most friendliest trustworthy people I'd ever encountered in my life, due the constant baksheeshing going on there, I was still a bit hesitant to trust them wholeheartedly. Especially with money. So, needless to say, I was a bit hesitant to pay everything up front for the Amigo Tour. But Muhammed, who gave me his word of honor that I would be truly satisfied with the tour, had a convincing manner about him — so I gave him the full amount. Besides, how could I not trust a person who looked just like me? Don't answer that!

Anyway, the first part of the Amigo Tour included a tour of the Pyramids of the Giza Necropolis, bordering what is now El Giza in Egypt. And oddly enough, Chris and I were the only ones on that leg of the Amigo Tour. So after the required visits to expensive Egyptian art shops that sold the tackiest art you can imagine, our seemingly shady tour guide dropped us off at the entrance to the pyramids, and surprisingly, without giving us a guided tour. At the entrance, we got baksheeshed to hell by hordes of Egyptians trying to sell us beyond over-priced camel and horse rides to the Pyramids — that we actually believed were already included in the Amigo Tour package. This incident would become the first break of trust in Muhammed's word of honor.

Like her detailed agenda, unfortunately Sarah's suggestion to ride a horse to the pyramids was also ousted after some more convincing. This time the convincing came from my boy Chris. He humorously quipped, "Owen, you can ride a horse most everywhere, bro — but how many times can you say you rode a camel — and to the Great Pyramid of Giza?"

Chris couldn't have been more convincing.

So after some extensive haggling, Chris was able to talk the baksheeshers down on the beyond over-priced camels, and with a little bit of baksheesh we found a great tour guide named Paul and I was on my way to finally seeing a long awaited number one dream destination — The Great Pyramid of Giza, one of the only Seven Wonders of the Ancient World still standing.

But soon after I got on top of my camel, that I apply named Tauntaun, and experienced what turned out to be another extremely dangerous ride in Egypt, I begged and pleaded for a horse. And this time it wasn't my life being put in danger — it was my manhood. The constant pounding up and down on the hump of the camel became extremely uncomfortable in forbidden places making the rest of my day barely walkable from all of the aches and pains I suffered.

Nevertheless, those aches and pains weren't enough to take my mind off of what appeared right in front of me after I turned a Star Wars-like sand-dune corner and saw the greatest of the great. And you know, I guess the best way I can describe seeing the Great Pyramid in real life is just simply— surreality. Nothing disappointed me. The Great Pyramid, along with The Pyramid of Khafre and Pyramid of Menkaure were everything I'd imagined and then some.

After taking a thousand pictures of each pyramid and climbing one of the Queen’s pyramids — not too far off in the distance, I spotted The Great Sphinx Of Giza, the largest monolith statue and oldest known monumental sculpture in the world. Seeing the The Sphinx was the only thing that could possibly take my mind off the pyramids, so we quickly hopped back on top of our camels and headed fast in that direction.

And you can bet your bottom dollar that when you read The Blog-O-Daria Series, it's going to be all about truth and honesty here — because, although I was in rapture of being in the presence of The Great Sphinx, I was a little bit disappointed at the size. Yeah, I'll admit — I was embarrassingly expecting that sucker to be just as massive as the Great Pyramid. And don't get me wrong, The Sphinx is pretty damn large, but it doesn't come close to the size of any of the pyramids or nearly as large as it appears in photographs. Mainly because the photos you see tend to shoot it with the Great Pyramid in the background, giving off a distorted view of the actual size of The Sphinx.

After taking a thousand more photographs of The Great Sphinx and a much deserved lunch break, the Amigo Tour continued at the Pyramid of Djoser, or commonly referred to as the Step Pyramid, an archeological remain in the Saqqara necropolis and central feature of a vast mortuary complex in an enormous courtyard surrounded by ceremonial structures and decoration.

After another spectacular night over Egypt, the next day, Chris and I met two more cool tourists, an Irishman named John and a Canadian named David, while hanging out in the lobby of Maramees. These two dudes were in desperate search of the third most popular drink after water and tea and a difficult commodity to find in Egypt — beer. And although I'm not a consumer of the aforementioned, I decided to aid the boys in their search, mainly because I needed to do a more thorough search of the city for some CD and DVD stores. So at my suggestion, we hit the Cairo streets to do some more sight seeing, hoping to get lucky. And after another wonderful walk, crossing over the beautiful Qasr al-Nil Bridge, that spans the Nile River, the longest river in the world, we did finally stumble upon a liquor store that carried Hieneken by the case.

The boys were absolutely thrilled.

Unfortunately, the only music and DVD store I came across, only carried Egyptian music and movies. And the owner had never even heard of rock and roll, The Beatles or Michael Jackson — and got a bit annoyed at me for asking if he sold anything other than Egyptian music in his store. After that incident, I decided to abort the whole CD and DVD hunting thing altogether and just enjoy and accept Egypt for what it was — a country almost purely untouched by westernized pop culture.

Anyway, before the boys downed their prize, they needed something in their bellies to soak it up. So we stopped by Kazaz, a traditional Egyptian restaurant located a block from our Hostel that was quite yummy for my tummy and reasonably priced. During most of my nights over Egypt, me and the boys were eating there about four times a day — breakfast, lunch, dinner and sometimes a snack — until one evening when John and Chris got a bad case of diarrhea.

Real bad.

David, the most seasoned traveler amongst us, warned not to eat the salads due to non-washing or washing the vegetables in unsanitary water — siting that, although a third of the Egyptian population is connected to sanitary sewers, nearly 20,000 children die each year from diarrhea.

Needless to say, after learning this eye-opening fact, for the remainder of my nights over Egypt, I avoided anything resembling a salad on my plate and stuck close to my homeboy Macca D's — which was surprisingly, but thankfully, located in every major city that I visited throughout Egypt.

The next morning in Cairo, after the boys recuperated from their diarrhea disaster, we explored more of the city center, included a breathtaking view from the top of The Cairo Tower, a free-standing concrete tower that stands in the Zamalek district on Gezira Island in the River Nile. The Tower is higher than the Great Pyramid of Giza, and one of Cairo's most famous and well-known landmarks.

After having drinks at an exclusive posh-like restaurant on the top floor of the Tower, it was time to explore another must-see landmark, The Egyptian Museum in Cairo, home to an extensive collection of ancient Egyptian antiquities, including Tutankhamun's Death Mask, which I had the privilege to see during its tour of the States sometime ago. Oh, and if you were wondering how Egyptians felt about Americans, this one particular incident that comes to mind just might sum it up for you. It occurred when me and my travel buddies were entering the Egyptian Museum where I experience a whole new kind of celebrity status.

You see, upon arrival, the security guards let my boys through literally without checking their IDs or bags. But when they got to me, I was instantaneously treated like a convict — they frisked me down SWAT style, thoroughly checked my bag, and asked me crazy questions. It was pretty obvious that they thought I was Egyptian or from somewhere else in Africa. But just as soon as they allowed me to present my passport and discovered I was an American citizen — I was dusted off with the deepest apologies and quickly escorted through the security gates. Seeing just how fast the guards' attitudes changed towards me was quite stunning and fascinating for me and my travel buddies.

Throughout my all of my nights over Egypt, I would endure this kind treatment at almost every major Egyptian government establishment. But soon after they discovered I was American, I was in like Flint everytime. It seemed as if the Egyptian people had a certain respect for America or Americans.

And like I said before, you can bet your bottom dollar that when you read The Blog-O-Daria Series, that it's going to be all about truth and honesty here — because after I entered that museum, I was met with the most appalling revelation of my trip. The interior of the museum was the most tackiest, dustiest, and unorganized situation I'd ever seen in my life. It was simply in shambles — the wooden shelves and cases around the tombs looked like ancient artifacts! I have just one question for the management: with thousands upon thousands of visitors each day, paying $40 a pop to enter — where in the hell is all the money going? Surely not for the upkeep and presentation.

My apologies if I am coming off insensitive over this matter, but come on folks — besides the needed preservation of these important artifacts on display, I feel the management could be a bit more professional and considerate of the people traveling long distances to see this stuff.

Nevertheless, on a more praising note, when you could see or locate them, the 120,000 ancient artifacts on display were in fact some of the most amazing I'd ever seen in my life. Like the Louvre, at times I got quite overwhelmed with all the wonderfulness abound. The number one highlight for me was the museum's Royal Mummy Room, which housed about 9 spectacular mummies, including the newly discovered mummy of Queen Hatshepsut.

After several nights over Cairo, it was now time resume the Amigo Tour and explore other places down the Nile. My boys Chris, David and John went their separate ways and I was back on my own — solo in Egypt. And the next stop was Aswan by train. The night train.

But before I caught my night train, I had a needed bone to pick with my twin brother Muhammad involving some minor details he left out of the Amigo Tour package, such as the extra money we had to shovel out for just about everything and our guide-less tour guides. I told him simply, "tell the people exactly what they are getting up front when you describe the tour package — people will either pay for it or they won't, but at least they'll know what they are buying. And most importantly, your conscience stays clear."

Muhammad seemed to understand where I was coming from and gave me his word of honor — again, promising me that, "all will be good for the next part of the tour. You can trust me, Owen." Further insuring, "an expert tour guide will meet you at Aswan train station." Then we shook hands and parted ways.

I felt bad chewing out my twin brother, but I think he needed to hear it — and I needed some extra reassuring.

Speaking of reassurance, when I arrived at the Cairo train station, what I found wasn't very reassuring at all. And if I ever thought things were confusing for me at an Italian train station from Episode 16, well then see, there's really nothing like perspective, baby — because my Italian experience doesn't compare to the confusion at an Egyptian train station. The situation there was liken to Cairo on a tiny scale.

I tried not to panic. I was determined to work this one out on my own. But with everything written in Arabic and massive amounts of people literally standing back to back, after a few minutes searching for the correct train and platform, I finally gave in to a couple of baksheeshers tailing me close. After paying them off, they gladly helped me find what I was looking for. I hopped on board and located my very own sleeper room that included a clean warm comfy bed, sink to wash up and on-the-dot service. It was also the very first time I rode a night train. In fact, the whole experience turned out to be one of the top 10 highlights of my nights over Egypt.

However, the entire night train experience wasn't all good. After a most relaxing train ride that included a breathtaking view of Egyptian landscape, listening to the sounds of recently purchased soul goodies from my childhood, such as Heatwave, A Taste of Honey and The Jones Girls, and a much needed good nights' sleep, in the morning, as I got closer to Aswan, I became more and more nervous by the minute. I wondered if anyone was really going to meet me at the Aswan station. I thought to myself, "was this whole Amigo Tour just a set-up to extort money from dumb tourists like me who pay all there cash up front?"

I'd hoped not.

But after I collected my luggage and stepped off the train, there was seemingly no one there waiting at the Aswan station. "I'd been ripped off good," so I thought. For the second time, I tried not to panic. And so no one would sense my helplessness, I walked out of that train station with my head raised high and put on the best imitated act of confidence I could muster up. Then right before I could think of a plan B, I could see from a distance a very tall and slender Egyptian man seemingly coming toward me from the exit doors. As he got closer, I could see that he was holding a huge white sign with large black letters that simply read — "OWEN." It was my new Amigo Tour guide!

Muhammad had kept his word of honor.

Seeing my name on the sign was equivalent to a thirsty man seeing a water well in the Sahara desert. And from the way the new tour guide shook my hand firm and tightly, I could tell he knew just how relieved I was to see him. He then introduced himself as Sameer, welcomed me to Aswan, and escorted me to the Nubanile Hotel, which was a pretty big step up from Maramees — but not as nice as Novatel.

After I checked in and took a quick hot shower, I took a quick stroll around Aswan, which stands on the east bank of the Nile and is one of the driest inhabited places in the world. Besides observing just how correct Sarah was again when she said Egypt would be hot in the day, my second observation was that Aswan was, with the exception of the dangerous driving, a whole lot tamer and far less crowded than Cairo. And most importantly — there was far less baksheesh in motion. Which was rather surprising, considering it was a lot more depressive and impoverished.

After my quick stroll around Aswan, I met up with some more pretty cool travelers from the Amigo Tour, a wonderful Japanese couple named Jo-ha and Aya, whom I actually first met in Cairo at Maramees Hostel, Haines, a fellow photographer from the States, and Jen and John, an American couple living in Sweden. And while I'm on the subject, I'd like to express that one of the most rewarding things about traveling is simply meeting people. There's an instant bond that happens in just a short period of time. And mainly because of one rather important interest — a love for travel.

Anyway, our first stop in Aswan, was The Aswan Dam, situated across the Nile River. Following Egypt's independence from the United Kingdom, the High Dam, as it it sometimes called, was constructed between 1960 and 1970 and had a significant impact on the economy and culture of Egypt. Unfortunately, we were charged an extra expensive fee to view it, but this time, we were told up front and knew what to expect.

And I'll say it again, when you read The Blog-O-Daria Series it's going to be all about truth and honesty here, because the High Dam wasn't worth the extra price at all. Me and my fellow Amigo tour buddies agreed that it could have easily been left off to make more time for exciting monuments like the next three stops that included the stunning, yet unfinished, Temple of Kalabsha, built around 30 BC during the early Roman era and located at Bab al-Kalabsha, 50 kilometers south of Aswan and the Trajan's Kiosk, one of the largest Ancient Egyptian monuments standing today at the island of Agilkia.

The Kiosk was quite an impressive monument in terms of beauty and preservation. But what fascinated me most was learning that it was transported to Agilika in the 60s by UNESCO to save it from being enveloped by the rising waters of the Nile due to the construction of the High Dam.

Our third exciting visit that day was to the massive and magnificent Abu Simbel temples, located in Abu Simbel in Nubia, on the western bank of Lake Nasser southwest of Aswan. The twin rock temples were originally carved out of the mountainside during the reign of Ramesses II as a lasting monument to himself and his queen Nefertari. And like the Kiosk, the Abu Simbel temples were also relocated in its entirety in 1968, on an artificial hill made from a domed structure. I was surprised and relieved that no re-assembling occurred during this move. A fallen head below one of feet of the four large statues was still grounded. Because of a lack in precise accuracy of what it originally looked like, I, personally, am not a fan of reassembling ancient monuments or artifacts, especially if it's not really necessary.

Well it wasn't quite like Star Wars — but I guess you can say that my childhood yearning for far away adventures had finally come true, because when Christmas Day finally arrived in Egypt, the moment on the Amigo Tour that I had been fearing had also come around — a two day sail up the Nile river on a felucca. And before my nights over Egypt, I had know idea what a felucca was! I'd ignorantly envisioned it to be a large ship or yacht. Instead, what I approached was a tiny raft-like boat with a huge sail attached.

I was more frightened than a ladybug caught in a venus flytrap.

Mainly over the sleeping over night part. I was worried that I'd be eaten alive by a deadly shark or bitten by a malaria infected mosquito. And just so you know, my worries and fears weren't coming from my vidid horror-movie-fueled imagination — you see, just 10 days before my felucca ride, I'd learned that a German girl was tragically killed by a shark while snorkeling in Sharm el-Sheikh.

Nevertheless, my fears were put to rest for a moment after meeting the felucca's crew, two very chill Egyptians dudes named, Sa'id, the captain, and Bob, the first mate, and five wonderful passengers, Indian born Hilda, Korean born Toya, Alaskan born Russell, Japanese born Yoko, who'd taken a hard fall breaking her leg hours before, and her husband, New Zealand born Jeff, also an experienced sailer — all English teachers residing in Japan. For two days and nights, the six of us got along like old high school chums, sharing travel stories and life abroad — while Captain Sa'id and his first mate Bob, cooked us up some of the yummiest food I'd eaten since Kazaz.

By night's fall, after a nice Christmas toast with a little wine and yummy bread, it was time for bed — a time I'd been fearing. And to make matters worst, it was freezing cold and pitch black on the Nile giving off a creepy atmosphere. But of course, I tried to play the manly-man role in front of the girls and made like I wasn't the least bit afraid. But deep down inside — I was crying inside like a little baby.

Although Captain Sa'id insisted that it was too cold on the Nile to inhabit mosquitos, we still bathed our bodies in bug repellant. First Mate Bob generously passed around some pretty hefty blankets to relieve the night chill and the six of us made the most of the tiny narrow space inside the felucca and bided a goodnight's sleep. I wrapped my blanket tight. And just in case a shark jumped on board, I strategically slept on my back with my face to the dark Egyptian night's sky, gazing up at the brightest star. At times I couldn't believe I was actually in Egypt sleeping on a felucca. My amazement was therapeutic. It kept my mind from worrying about sharks and mosquitos. And in minutes I got the most wonderful night's sleep of all of my nights over Egypt.

Like I said, never in my wildest dreams had I imagined spending Christmas day and night on a felucca cruising the River Nile. And it's quite difficult to describe the feeling. Jack Frost was still there nipping at my nose, but there was no chestnuts roasting on an open fire, no yuletide carols being sung by a choir, or folks dressed up like eskimos. Nope, it was a different kind of Christmas for me. And I'll be the first to admit that it felt rather strange at times. But a wonderful kind of strange.

The day after my enchanting Christmas felucca sail, my tour bus ride from Aswan to Luxor turned out to be a very sad and tragic moment of my nights over Egypt. You see, minutes after me and some fellow tour buddies were commenting on the dangerous driving in Egypt, we passed by the most horrifying bus collision I'd ever encountered. As our bus came to a slow down, we watched in horror as bystanders did what they could to try and rescue injured passengers from the wreckage. There was a long period silence in the air for the remainder of our ride to Luxor. Later in the night, after arriving at my hotel in Luxor, I'd soon discovered that 8 American tourists lost their lives in the crash.

The fatal accident put a damper on my nights over Egypt. But meeting up with Japanese born Hiroki and Japanese-born-Australian-raised Ken, two very cool solo travelers from the next leg of the Amigo Tour, helped ease the sadness. They were the kind of travelers most travelers desire to meet on the road. Outgoing, upbeat and up for just about anything.

Spirits of ancient Egypt,

shadows of ancient Rome
Spirits of ancient Egypt
Hung on the telly,

hung on the telly,

hung on the telephone.

— Paul McCartney, 1975

My hotel in Luxor was liken to Nubanile. So after settling in, me and my boys Hiroki and Ken took a long stroll through the streets of Luxor. My first observation was that it was a lot like Cairo in terms of massive amounts of people, tourists and traffic — but on a much smaller scale. The backsheesh was in motion and even more so than Cairo and Aswan combined. The drivers were crazier and had an unusual way of driving at night with their headlights off — only briefly turning them on when passing a vehicle or to warn pedestrians in the road. John and Chris, two American friends of mine who grew up in Cairo, not to be confused with the aformentioned travel buddies of the same names, told me this was their way of conserving battery power.

Okay.

Anyway, after our stroll, Ken, Hiroki and I headed for the Amigo Tour bus to visit a couple of gorgeous temples. First stop was the Temple of Kom Ombo, in the town Kom Ombo, an unusual double temple built during the Ptolemaic dynasty. Some additions to it were later made during the Roman period. After Kom Ombo, we took a ride to the the beautiful and massive Temple of Edfu, the second largest temple in Egypt after Karnak and one of the best preserved, located on the west bank of the Nile in the city of Edfu. The temple's outer and interior inscriptions provide important information on language, myth and religion during the Greco-Roman period in ancient Egypt.

After our tantalizing temple time, Hiroki had to leave to catch his own felucca ride down the Nile, so Ken and I headed to the next stop on the Amigo tour where we met up with Mina, a very petite, and might I add, courageous Japanese girl traveling solo through Egypt. This time we were also equipped with a very knowledgable and cool Egyptian tour guide named Ishmal. The first stop was The Valley of the Kings, a valley in Egypt where tombs were constructed for the Pharaohs and powerful nobles. The Valley stands on the west bank of the Nile, opposite Luxor within the heart of the Theban Necropolis.

During the tour of the Valley, that unfor-tunately included just 3 of the 63 tombs, de-pending upon how much extra money or backsheesh paid, I experience the second greatest moment of my nights over Egypt after the Great Pyramid — a surprising glimpse of King Tutankhamun's mummy. It was surprising for me because the Amigo Tour did not advertise a view of the actual linen-wrapped, well preserved mummy — instead it just read a view of the golden sarcophagus covering the mummy. Man, I must have stayed down in that freezing cold chamber for an extra 15 minutes just staring at the boy king, who's death still remains somewhat shrouded today. My only wish was to be able to snap a picture next to him, which was, unfortunately, strictly prohibited. So I'll be keeping that top 2 moment of the trip fresh in my memory banks.

Being that I spent a semester studying this temple's vast architecture in art history class, like the Great Pyramid, the next stop was a most familiar and iconic site — a visit to The Mortuary Temple of Queen Hatshepsut, situated beneath the cliffs at Deir el Bahari on the west bank of the Nile near the Valley of the Kings. The massive temple, dedicated to the sun god Amun-Ra, was yet another top 10 moment of my nights over Egypt — but also a bit of a let down due to the overwhelming amounts of tourists abound.

Speaking of overwhelming tourists, our next stop to The Valley of the Queens, where wives of Pharaohs were buried in ancient times, was just the opposite — surprisingly, there was hardly any visitors which made for an easy tour. My guess for the lack of visitors, would be due to the fact that many of the tombs and chambers, holding Queens of the 18th, 19th and 20th dynasties, were still under archaeological excavation.

Another place that didn't lack tourists, was the Colossi of Memnon, two massive stone statues of Pharaoh Amen-hotep III, standing in the Theban Necropolis. Although these gigantic monuments were badly damaged, with features above waist virtually unrecognizable, this was still another top 10 moment of my nights over Egypt. Ken and Mina, and even the tour guide, had to literally pull me away to keep me from taking an additional thousands more pictures.

After another days worth of touring, it was back to Luxor. Upon arrival, still excited, unweary and ready for more, Ken, Mina and I did some more sight seeing around town that included shopping at the great Sharia Souk Market. Unfortunately, the trip started to take toll on my health, Inflicting a seemingly non-stop dry-cough, most likely from the thick smog. Thankfully, various yummy inexpensive, freshly-squeezed orange juice stands were located throughout all of Egypt — giving me a much needed supply of vitamin C helping to boost my immune system for more fun.

The last and final day of the infamous and unpredictable Amigo Tour, would end on a fitting note. You see, unfortunately, my boy Ken had to bid farewell, so it was now just Mina and I for the next leg. However, and ironically, we met up with another cool Australian dude named Peter. Our tour guide this time was somewhat of an imposter who ended up getting fired after getting into a skirmish with a fellow disgruntled tourist who questioned his knowledge and authenticity. And although this small mishap waisted about an hour of our tour time, we were eventually provided with a real knowledgable tour guide who led the way to more exciting and amazing temples and monuments, including The Karnak Temple Complex that comprises a vast mix of ruined temples, chapels, pylons, and other buildings —notably the Great Temple of Amun and a massive structure begun by Pharaoh Ramses II.

However, unfortunately when we got to Luxor Temple, the final site on the Amigo Tour, the sun was going down fast. Nevertheless, photographing in a low sunlight provides the best outcome for photographing. And forgive me for bragging — but during my nights over Egypt, I took thousands of gorgeous photographs. Some of my best work in my humble opinion. So before continuing on with the final conclusion of my nights over Egypt, please click on this link to view pictures that tell a far better story than I.

My Pussy Queen
knows all my secrets.
I'll never fall in love again.
I drift with dunes.
I whisper of the tombs.
They offer me Egyptian delights.

— Kate Bush, 1980

During my last and final night over Egypt, I headed back to Cairo and stayed at Dina's Hostel, not too far from Maramees. Dina's was liken to Maramees in terms of service and condition. And although I had to share a room with 8 other travelers, the room was a hell of a lot warmer than Mara-mees — so I wasn't complaining.

Before bedtime, I hit up the ever-so-popular Khan el-Khalili, a major souk, or market, in the Islamic district and one of Cairo's main attractions for tourists and Egyptians alike. And after a walk down a few streets, filled with massive amounts of shoppers and tourists abound, and enough swap meet to fill every department store in all of New York City — it all became quite overwhelming, so I headed back to Dina's to call it a night. Besides, I needed to rest up for the next day to visit my last stop in Egypt and get ready for my flight back home to Sofia.

I got up bright and early in the morning, carefully packed my bags, and headed over to the last and final stop, The Saladin Citadel of Cairo, a medieval Islamic fortification located on Mokattam hill near the center, once famous for its fresh breeze and grand views of the city. It is now a preserved historic site, with mosques and museums.

The most famous of the mosques situated in the Citadel is The Mosque of Muhammad Ali, a massive mosque built in memory of Tusun Pasha, Muhammad Ali Pasha's oldest son, who died in 1816. As I strolled the alabaster covered courtyard and explored the beautiful and exotic interior, watching all the people remove there shoes, hearing the familiar sounds of the adhan and watching the praying-style that made Jamie and I laugh and giggle so hard, I got a warm vivid memory of the old mosque days of my childhood. And although I consider myself the agnostic-type, who isn't a fan of discussing faith, belief or religion — it felt quite wonderful having an islamic past to look back on.

After exiting the Mosque of Muhammad Ali, I passed by the Egyptian National Military Museum in Cairo. And to be quite honest, if this museum had not been on the same pathway as the Ali mosque, I would not have ordinarily made such a stop. But in light of the recent events that occurred during the 2011 Egyptian Revolution, just 20 days after my nights over Egypt, I am now grateful that I stopped to witness what turned out to be the most poignant moment of the entire trip.

You see, after taking a rather short tour of the surprisingly neat and organized military museum for over a half hour, checking out old military tanks, ancient chariots and reconstructed war scenes from long ago, I finally managed to make my way to the last room, or hall in this case, that featured beautifully rendered paintings of former Egyptian kings, rulers and presidents in chronological order.

Tired and exhausted I rushed through the exhibit fairly quickly. But on my way out, a bunch of fashionably hip high school students unknowingly stood in the pathway of the narrow hallway that lead to the exit door. They were the most seemingly happy students I'd come across in Egypt. They took turns taking photographs next to a gigantic oil painting of then Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak.

Their excitement over the painting made them appear like groupies taking pictures next to a famous rock star. So besides their seemingly unusual display of affection toward a political figure and their blocking of the pathway to the exit, I will never know what in the world prompted me to stop and ask them what turned out to be the most profound and prophetic question of my entire nights over Egypt.

"So, what do you all think of your President?" I politely and respectfully asked.

After a quick pause, perhaps to see who was asking the question, a bright-eyed female student joyfully replied, "He's a wonderful President."

Then without haste, a younger innocent faced male student standing next to her smiled and nodded in agreement, "we love him."

Be seeing you.

O