From Cairo to Beirut

Riding down to Cairo on a Thursday evening via four wheels is never advisable. You want a train if you are traveling with fewer than four. With that said six of us piled into a van and braced for a long ride. Four hours later of battling traffic and the driver's Best of Bryan Adams CD we made it to our usual hotel, The President in the heart of Zamalek. It was time for a pre-dinner beverage at the Cairo Cellar located in the hotel's basement. A new Indian Restaurant opened over the summer and we decided to give it a shot. Our first clue should have been the lack of an Indian staff but we stayed for the pasty white and bland curry dishes. When the plates were cleared, it was unanimously decided that our meal definitely wasn't Indian. The following statement I'm about to make might come across as a form of prejudice and even hint at discrimination. I'm going to make it a rule that if I'm going to dine at an "ethnic" establishment then the owner, cook, and at least one server should be native to the country they represent. In other words I don't want a non-Cuban making me a plate of Ropa Vieja. When I lived in Alabama, my then wife Janet, her mom, and I were thrift store shopping on the west end and worked up an appetite for Chinese. We passed by a place with an all African-American staff cooking up eggrolls and fried rice. Where on earth have you ever seen non-Chinese operate a Chinese Restaurant?   

After the Indian fare we checked out the Khan al-Khalili for a nighttime shopping adventure. On our way to catch a cab back to the hotel Ana and I debated on which one of these paintings would look best in our apartment. As of yet a decision is still to been made. If we sign a third year contract then I'm pushing for the one on the top left. Sonny thinks it favors me most.

Christine feels that any of the magic and power the Pyramids once had has gone by the way side. Imagine if you didn't have a slew of salesmen leeching on to you trying to hock Chinese made souvenirs. How many times can you say no to a camel ride? Our driver Mohammed said "nothing is ever free" damn straight!

Muslim ladies with a Coors Light cooler, maybe they are keeping their Jimmy Dean sausages cool.

Mohammed drove us back to the Khan as more shops would be open from the previous night. Sonny and Christine scored some goods for friends and family back home. Next destination was City of the Dead (al Qarafa aka "The Cemetery") which is a long grid of enclosed family tombs stretching four miles. The departure from the insanity of Cairo into al Qarafa is quite drastic. Photos don't capture the eeriness the physical presence does, hence I will not be posting any pictures of the few I snapped. We later ended up driving down the narrow paths of Old Cairo.

Friday morning Prayer. Photo by Sonny.

Maybe this is an ironic statement of getting a benign brain tumor from excessive cell phone usage.

Our last supper in Cairo was at Gad. We were served up hearty portions of falafel, fries, hummus, eggplant dishes, and bread. Christine made a couple of falafel sandwiches to take on the road and several days later in Lebanon she was still in possession of them. We stopped off at City Stars Mall en route to the airport. What can you say, it was big and filled with shoppers. Sonny did manage to find the Fulla dolls he was searching for. To learn more about the Muslim-like Barbie chick here .
The above photo is the Razanne doll predating Fulla. "As with the other Muslim dolls, Fulla is kind and generous and loves and respects her friends and family"

The flight to Beirut was pleasant and uncontested. The driver taking us to our hotel was waiting at the gate past customs, that is service. You are pretty much golden entering the country as long as you don't have a stamp from Israel. Our first couple of nights were spent in Gemmayze at the Port View Hotel. Last year when Ana and I arrived the scene was significantly mellower. I get it, you aren't getting laid and you won't anytime soon so you have to be obnoxious and crank your stereo and peel away on your motorcycle. Sonny thought we had landed in some Euro trash neighborhood, I wouldn't have gone that far, it was a weekend night. We stopped off at the Bulldog for a couple pints of Almaza (Lebanese beer). To make matters worse, a girl walked into a bar passing out cans of a new energy drink called "Pussy" I'm sure Sonny's mom wasn't overly impressed. It was time to call it a night.   

There are several ruins sitting between buildings in Nejmeh Square near the Green Line. The Green Line is the road that divides Beirut between the west (Muslim) and east (Christian).  

One afternoon near my school in Alex, there were posters on a mosque depicting The Star of David with the Pepsi and Coca Cola logos. I took a photo of it which soon became a discussion with a couple of the locals hanging about. I asked for the meaning of the poster. One man answered that he didn't like the influence the west had over his country. I can't tell you how much western junk food products packages I see on the streets of Alex and other Muslim countries I've visited. They may hate the west and all but they still love their Micky D's and Twinkies.

Much of the area around Martyrs Square/Green Line area had been destroyed during the Civil War. We wondered how much of the ruins were affected. There are new buildings popping up all over. It is nice to see the city rebuild.

Ottoman Clock Tower still standing after a couple of decades of war.

We made our own walking tour from Gemmayze to Hamra to Piegon Rocks. We saw several reminders of the Civil War with security forces nearby making sure we didn't take any photos. Picture taking is a sensitive matter here.  

Newer building with unusual windows.

A creative solution to bullet holes,  just cover them up with a mural of doves.

In the states we call smoking flavored tobacco from a water pipe hooka, in Egypt it is called sheesha, and in Lebanon they call it nargileh. Well whatever you choose to call it, for $25 you can have it delivered to your home.

Sonny making his first Lebanese friend.

We figured that the import tax on BMWs and Mercedes Benz must be quite low as you see them everywhere.

In Lebanon they feed sheep apples and Egypt they cut their heads off. Happy Big Eid!

Pigeon Rocks on the west side. We enjoyed a lunch of Arabic cuisine overlooking Beiruts main attraction.

Keep out!

Just in case you didn't receive the memo "Falloutboy Roxs"

I'm thinking of a career change.

On the way towards Achrafieh/Ashrafiye through Mar Nicolas. The interesting about Beirut and Lebanon is all  the different ways a neighborhood or town can be spelled. Good luck using a map if you are looking for specifics.

Many of these types of buildings are being fixed or replaced. Ana found an interesting book: Beyroutes-A Guide to Beirut. The books opens with the chapter My City "A guide book is funny in many ways. Funny because you start writing its introduction only when you're about to finish its content." Along with the discussion that Beirut is a land of "small but hard headed refugees" it also includes a guided map to locations where assassinations took place. There is a bonus cut out guide to How to Survive in Dahiya (a Southern Beirut neighborhood). In Dahiya you will find Hizbollah (Party of God) thus making it a favorite target for Israeli missiles.  

Demetrius Cemetery in Achrafieh. It is located across ABC Mall.

Demetrius Cemetery in Achrafieh

Another image of Demetrius Cemetery in Achrafieh. The evening ended with The Greek Film Festival at Metropolis Empire Sofil. The movies were free and open to the public. Little Greek Godfather was first and was on par with watching a movie in Egypt (constant conversations and cell phones ringing). There was an unusual amount of kids in the audience. One kid got a bottle thrown at him for standing up too long, you gotta love instant justice. Between films we stopped at the snack bar and let me emphasize the term bar. I got a glass of wine and Ana got popcorn. Next up was Plato's Academy also staring the same actor from the previous film. We didn't have an opportunity to see the other four films but we figured he might be in those as well. Stay tuned for the drive up north!

The Cairo Leg

One could possibly predict if there will be a Swine Flu outbreak on our campus simply by looking at the master calendar to see when the next visiting author is scheduled to appear. In Michele Serros case she did fare better than Tom Palmer in that she at least had a handful of students in the audience, as to say her presentation was intimate.

Our reward at 3 pm on our last day of school was the 20-minute secret Santa gift exchange followed by the six-hour Death March of Bataan bus ride to Cairo. Getting to Cairo is never as easy as it should be, I'm just some new kid on the block, naïve on the most basic level in thinking that there exists some formula, path, or whatever to get into that city in a timely manner. Even something foolproof like a train will just stop on a track and sit for God knows how long. The 18 of us on the bus all had our own destinations. The first batch was dropped off at Novotel, the hotel across from the airport famous for their high water pressure showers, rumor has it that our teachers like to take multiple showers during their overnight stay. The second group was New York City bound and they were released in front of their terminal. Dean, Michele, Ana, and I were scheduled for the next drop-off at a bargain hotel in downtown Cairo. It's just a room, right? All we are going to do is sleep in it and for $20 per/night it can't be that bad and it wasn't, but mosquitoes and polyurethane is a cocktail that shouldn't be mixed. We paid our monies and Michele, Ana, and I caught a cab over to Zamalek with the plan of hitting the handful of hotels we knew searching for a room. Our two initial options failed, we were eventually referred to the President and upon walking into the lobby we run into Linroy (our school's Tech guy) and his wife at the desk checking in. What luck. We scored a room then hightailed it back in a taxi to our first hotel only to find Dean high as a kite from the fumes with someone's used chewing gum attached to the hair of his forearms, I thought it was customary for classy hotels put a welcome chocolates on the pillow, but this is over the top. To add insult to injury, the elevator didn't work so we lug or bags down several flights of uneven and broken stairs passing dark floors with people sleeping in cardboard boxes to catch a cab. The fun ended slumber party style at 2 am with the four of us crammed into a 2-person room and every time hospitality knocked on our door to deliver extra towels, Dean's assignment was to hide behind the curtains. This would go down as one of the more memorable nights on our trip. 

Glob of used chewing gum

Our mission this trip was to play tourist. The Egyptian Museum was first on the list. We decided to walk from our hotel across the Nile to where we ran into the museum's "botanical director" on his lunch break who was kind enough to let us know that the facility wasn't open to the public yet, just to schools and tour groups and that we should go kill some time at the "government operated souvenir shop" across the way. He escorted us through traffic to what was probably his family's store. Welcome to Egypt.

The two-floor museum was cluttered and packed with history, tourists, and mummies. The artifacts were impressive. Michele was the only one brave enough to pay the admission to enter the Royal Mummy Room. Sadly the staff adheres to the strict no camera policy. We discovered the grounds provide excellent people watching opportunities. It's always fun to see westerners attempt to wear turbans and hijabs, it’s almost as cool as wearing a giant sombrero in Tijuana.

 Michele working trying out some dust jacket ideas 

Our next quest was to find the Whirling Dervishes, which meant heading over to Islamic Cairo to find the al-Ghouri Complex; a three-story cultural center with a courtyard theater where they perform bi-weekly. The nature of Whirling Dervishes dance ritual is a religious ceremony but fits nicely with the performing arts. The dancers are said to be members of the Mawlaiyya sect of Sufis, a mystic order of the Islamic faith. There was no actual line to get in, just a clump of people who resorted to pushing and shoving once the doors opened. This naturally led to some altercations and near fistfights. The show started with a line of musicians playing and jerking their bodies and heads to a hypnotic rhythm that set the tone for the evening. Twenty minutes into the show the dancers joined the musicians and dazzled the crowd for over an hour. One dancer spun his body continuously for nearly thirty minutes. He was obviously transcended the moment. The awe of this evening ranks right up there with seeing the Butthole Surfers back in 85' when they played with two naked fire-handling chicks dancing in front of graphic black and white highway accident prevention films. Both left an impression in their own way.

 

Taping wasn't allowed

Christmas eve would be devoted a day of shopping at the Khan al-Khalili which really didn't amount to much on the consumer side of things but we sure did browse quite a bit. People have remarked how crazy the Khan is and it is kind of like a junior version of the Great Bazaar in Istanbul but we would soon learn and graduate to a more intensive shopping experience a week later in Morocco. As an early Christmas gift Dean ate some bad falafel, poor guy. Welcome to Egypt, again. Ana, Michele and I headed over to the Cairo Opera House to score tickets to The Nutcracker. It was sold out but we bought tickets from people who had extras. I had to rent a tie and worse yet tuck in my shirt. Thankfully the camera was left at home. The ballet was nice and any venue that has an orchestra pit scores extra points in my book. A well spent $7.

Dean is one crazy foo

For Christmas we hired Mohamed (Linroy's driver) for our Giza experience. He explained to us the ins and outs to avoid being scammed by the touts at the Pyramids. I was reading a couple of stories the other day that the Pyramids were not built by slaves but by volunteers. Seriously…really, you think so? Personally I think it’s hard enough to find a friend who is willing to give up a Saturday morning to help you move. Ok, I've been hemming and hawing about going to see the damn things and it wasn't so bad. They were actually mind blowing. Then I remembered that aliens built them and I felt much better. How can we say we evolved as a species if we don't have the technology and precision to construct pyramids or the temples like in Baalbek. Its monuments like these that help you realize your insignificance. I realized that if there ever was an advantage to having light skin in Egypt, the Pyramids was the place to have it, it entitled you to free reign of climbing on them as you wished. The tourist police chased-off all the locals. Maybe it is built in through the cost of the ticket, Arabs pay 40 cents (2 pounds) and foreigners have to cough up $12 (60 pounds). Thank God the Sphinx and KFC were right down the hill.

Crazy dog making friends

Built by free labor

Mohamed drove us to the less-crowded Saqqara to experience the step pyramids. Outside the gate a tourist cop pulled our car over to bully us for lunch money. He asked Mohamed for all his credentials and all he really need was 5 Egyptian pounds so he paid him and off we went. He told us that’s how things operate in his line of work.

Step Pyramids

Little did we know that there was a secret watering hole beneath our hotel called the Cairo Cellar, the English style pub serves up a mean burger and draft beer set to a soundtrack of oldies. The lighting is dim, warm, and cozy…the perfect way to end a hectic day.

Our Cairo adventure came to an end when Mohamed drove us to the airport to meet Joseph and Lianne, the six of us Morocco bound.  

Waiting out the slight delay