The result of people not eating all day is that, for the most part, everything is closed during daylight hours. With few exceptions in the tourist areas, where the poor waiters and chefs are serving food they cannot eat all day, the stores and restaurants shut down and open all night instead.  At sundown, however, the whole city of Cairo goes crazy.   One night at sundown, we visited the Al-Hussein mosque, which is perhaps the most important mosque outside of Mecca, to experience the real Ramadan.

The mosque is in the heart of the Khan El Khalili market, but this evening, we couldn’t get closer than a half-mile.  It was like a rock concert, with cars everywhere, parked all higgledy-piggledy.  To get a spot, a kid about eighteen hopped up onto our hood and directed us as we drove down a bizarre narrow alley with cars parked so close we had to hold our breath just to pass.  Walking back out of the alley after cramming ourselves into a tiny space, we saw two more “parking attendents’ and the owner of a yellow car rocking the cars in front and in back of him.  Shifting the cars a few inches at a time, the yellow car finally was able to maneuver out of the spot, whereupon it was replaced by another car.

On the street, it was equally chaotic.  At Ramadan, the rich are supposed to feed the poor, and everywhere we looked, shop owners had set up impromptu cafes in the street, which were full of people breaking their fast by gorging on the free food.  Close to the mosque, we passed a covered hall where huge pots and pans were set out on the ground, and people sat around guarding the meal until it was time to eat.

The Al-Hussein mosque was like a fairground, so full of people you could barely move, part church, part circus.  Every vendor stood by a tiny stand hawking religious artifacts, beads, or spangled LED tops that could fly high into the night sky with a simple flick of the wrist.  Leaving our shoes among the hundreds of pairs at the entrance, my girlfriend and I wormed our way through the crush to the woman’s side of the mosque.  We could barely breathe as the undulating mass of women pushed us forward into the doors of the mosque.  But inside, we fared no better, as we literally couldn’t go another step.  Women sat cross-legged everywhere on the floor, knee to knee, chanting and praying and touching the marble wall which contained important relics.  Disappointed and nearly squished, we turned and wriggled our way back out.

The men had a much more enjoyable time.  Obviously a much larger space, the entrance to the men’s side was empty, so my husband and two other travelers left their shoes with us as they strode into the mosque.  Once inside, they were immediately taken under the wing of several Egyptians who, seeing them, announced, “Sit! Pray with us!” This is typical of the Egyptians, who we have found over the years to be welcoming and inclusive in their worship. While we waited for them to come back out, I looked around the main square of the Khan.  Always bustling, tonight it seemed to almost burst at the seams with the friendly, raucous, joyous celebration of the end of the day’s fast.  It may change everything in Cairo, but I was glad to be there on during Ramadan.

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“Saba al ful!” (This is the second most common, and the most typical response. “Ful” is the way the scent of morning jasmine fills your nostrils, so roughly translated, this means “Morning the Nose Hit.”
The third way to say Good Morning is “Saba al nur,” which is “Morning the Light.” Arabic, in my humble opinion, is definitely a Romance language.)

“Quais?” The next step is to ask how you are – “Good?” is the slang for that.

“Hamdulullah. (One always responds with “Thanks be to God.” Technically this is really probably Hamdul Allah, but it all gets run together.)
“Inta quais?” (This means, “You good?” Colloquially, “How about you?”)

“Hamdu’lah.” (The even more foreshortened version.)

“Meya-meya.” (This means literally, “a hundred/a hundred”, or more accurately, “A hundred percent!” Basically, “Great!”)

“Meya-meya.” (Which you should repeat back to the person who just said it to you. Congratulations, you can now speak Arabic better than many tourists.)

This is all well and good when you are a tourist who has learned a little Arabic. In fact, the above phonetic conversation will serve you well in almost any situation. When an Egpytian greets another Egyptian, the polite opening conversation takes on an elevated status. It’s like a Chip & Dale marathon where each person tries to outdo each other in a waterfall of polite speech. It’s almost like a race to see who can get the most nice words out fast enough, a contest of kindness. Every conversation, whether in person or on the phone, includes this elaborate dance, with each person saying something like the following to each other, both at the exact same time:

Person 1: Hello, how are you?                Person 2: Hello, how are you? I am well!
I am well! Thanks be to God! I               Are you alright? Thanks be to God! I
hope that everything is wonderful         hope that everything is wonderful
in your life and is as amazing as it       in your life and is as amazing as it
is in my life! I am so glad to hear          is in my life! I am so glad to hear
you are well! A hundred/a hundred!     you are well! A hundred/a hundred!

If the people are standing together at the time, they usually are shaking hands the whole while, nodding politely and smiling at each other. I was once walking with my friend Mohamed the block between his home and his office when a man jumped out of his car at the intersection and ran over to shake Momo’s hand. Even with his car stopped in the middle of the traffic, the exchange sounded the same as if they had met in his office. On the phone it is just a matter of both talking into their respective receivers simultaneously. In comparison, it makes the typical English greeting seem just a shadow of acceptability. However, every Egyptian has done this same dance about a hundred million times by now, to literally every person they have ever met. So there is a perfunctory quality about it that cannot fail to occur after so many years, like when an American says, “Hello, how are you?” to someone passing on the street and then keeps walking because they didn’t really mean to inquire after that stranger’s health, it’s just how they say hello. But magnified, because the speech must be made, in full, to nearly everyone. Even inside of a family unit, or a business where people talk with each other many times a day, the greeting is only somewhat less formal.

Learn just these few words of Arabic and not only will you have a better trip to Egypt, you will be able to understand many of the conversations around you!

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This is an excerpt from the book I am writing, working title: Travels Through Egypt (and yes, I am taking suggestions for names!!):

The next stop is one of the carpet schools near Sakkhara.  The idea behind them is that they take these little Egyptian kids, who would otherwise be roaming the streets, and they teach them a trade.  They train them to weave carpets of wool or silk, and then the carpets are sold in the next door factory, to the tourists who come by the busload, as we do.  The guides get a cut, for bringing their groups here instead of to the carpet factory (or perfumery or jewelry store) across the street or down the road, and the tourists go home with a rug that costs them a fraction of what they would have paid at home.

The first room is a large, airy space with a lot of light, and several carpet looms set up along the walls.  The looms are mostly vertical wooden contraptions, strung by hand with hundreds of guide threads.  The way the carpets are made is the same way they have been made for thousands of years: each hand-cut and colored length is wrapped around the individual guide thread and deftly knotted.  The rug is made by stacking knot after knot against each other, the colors and pattern emerging as more knots are stacked, until there are hundreds of thousands, sometimes millions of knots, and the carpet is cut down to lie on the floor or a wall.  The fringe usually left on a silk rug is all that remains visible of the guide threads used to build the rug.  At first, a picture is put up on the wall as a template, but as the weaver becomes more experienced, they will use their own mind and heart as a blueprint, creating whatever images they are drawn to, and then each rug will become truly custom.

 At the base of each loom, there is a narrow wooden bench, almost at ground level.  It is here the kids sit, weaving these rugs all day.  We are told they study, too, and are taught school subjects by the carpet school.  The children range from seven or eight to about fifteen, and they are relatively clean, a kind of sinewy thin that would make a supermodel worry that she was getting enough to eat.  The kids sit, often two or three to a bench, all working on the same rug.  At first, as the carpet school guide explains the methods used for the weaving, the kids weave industriously, smiling at this new group of hourly imports.  As he turns away, the children start to make the universal sign for money at us, the whispered word, “baksheesh.” This is the Egyptian word for tip money, and it’s heard everywhere.  In the hotels, when someone opens a door for you, baksheesh.  In the street, when an Egyptian man pulling a donkey gives you directions, baksheesh.  In the temples, when someone tells you to put your third eye on that extra-spiritual birdshit, lots of baksheesh.  I laughed at first, thinking it might be a joke, going along with them, but they are serious, insistent, and repetitive.  Their eyes are hard, unconnected, their little minds focused only on the money we can provide them.  I can almost see the light going out, as their childish innocence is turned in, one Egyptian pound at a time.  I hate the situation that turns these kids into beggars, when they tell us they are here learning a trade.  I suppose I might as well hate us for having money, for giving it to them.

I am not sorry when the guide turns back to us to usher us on to the main point of the tour: the purchasing.  Inside, the enormous room is full of wool rugs, some coarse, some fine, and at first it seems like enough inventory to last forever, these stack upon stacks of colored squares.  But any halfway-serious buyer is brought into a room at the back, which has the silk rugs in it, where you can spend the serious coin, and own a truly miraculous piece.  As I enter, a man is showing a couple from another group the way the silk rug changes color by reversing it.  He flips a smallish rug up in the air, giving it a half-turn on the way as if he’s making pizza dough.  The rug responds by shimmering in mid-air, and indeed, as it lands, the green is now a different shade.  Apparently, the silk gives off a different impression depending on which way the threads are angled, appearing to change color.  Supposedly, this chameleon factor is what caused the legends of flying carpets, as the rugs seem to move, shift and shimmer when they are flung into the air.  Even without the delightful backstory, they are exquisite, and the detail present in the silk makes the wool counterparts seem crudely executed.  The larger rugs go for ten or twenty thousand dollars, but when you blanch, they are quick to point out that you could easily pay ten times that in the States.  A few of my group is converted, and stay to choose their rugs as I sidle out to see what our guide and good friend, Emil, is doing.

As usual, he is embroiled in a heated battle of prices.  Emil’s M.O. is to look at the item that has been brought to him, give it the once-over, and then say, with a dismissive flick of his wrist, “Give him fifty pounds, or tell him to keep it!” Fifty pounds is ten dollars.  Which would be fine, except the street vendor who is selling the item wants fifty US dollars, and up until now you thought that was a fair price.  It’s weird, given that Emil will get a cut of whatever you buy almost everywhere, but that’s Emil for you, bucking the system wherever he can – and they all seem to love him.  He is loyal, that’s for sure, and if he knows you have a good product, he may bring a group a month to you for years and years.

Emil grabs the large roll of woven silk that one of our group, Rusty, is bargaining over, and ushers him over to The Man.  The Man, and there is a similar man at each major shop you will ever visit, is sitting at a desk at the back of the main room, surrounded by chairs and sycophants.  He is late middle-aged, with a head of grey, close-cropped hair and a floor length black Saudi-stylegalabeya, which means it’s made of a smooth polyester with a flat Oriental collar, very formal-looking.

One snap of his fingers and glasses of hot mint tea magically appear.  Mint tea, in all these shops, means you are bargaining.  Woe to any tourist foolish enough to turn down tea offered by a shop owner.  It is the custom, and it is the signal that you have a relationship, which means you can get a better price later, once you have gotten to know each other over tea.  Tea is the currency of social hour, and if you avoid it, even if it’s because you think you are being polite or honestly don’t have enough time, you’re guaranteed not to get the cheapest price; in my opinion, you are also missing out on a cultural exchange more important than anything that goes on at Camp David.

Rusty is an interesting character; he is in his late twenties, and he’s very normal-looking, except for the prosthetic plastic and metal leg he wears below his right thigh.  He won’t talk about it, except to say he got a lot of money losing his leg.  He is now spending some of that hard-earned cash on a silk rug in Egypt. And Emil is making sure he gets the best price, perhaps even pointing out Rusty’s disability to the Man in the process.

I move closer, and sit unobtrusively in one of the half-dozen chairs set out in two neat rows facing each other in front of the desk, The Man’s Lounge.  Emil cannot just snap his fingers at this man, and he knows it.  He speaks rapidly in Arabic, gesturing like an Italian whose mama has just been insulted.  He sighs, he rolls his eyes.  Now this is good theatre!  The Man listens quietly as Emil gets louder and more intense.  He gestures placidly, the movement going only as far down his arm as his wrist.  Suddenly, he nods his head – once only. Emil stops talking.  He takes the rolled up rug and gives it to Rusty.  In English, he announces the price.  Rusty looks pleased, and sets one edge of the rug roll on the ground, balancing against it so he can reach for his wallet.  Then the next tourist comes forward, hovering in the background until he can have his turn, and Emil heads back to the silk room so he can start the process over again.

Many years later, Greg convinced The Man to design a rug based on the Flower of Life, a sacred geometry pattern we didn’t even know existed the first time we were in the carpet school.  He sent a full-color picture by e-mail, and they downloaded it, printed it, and transferred it to a pattern for a silk rug.  The first one costs over $1,000 US to make – the time and effort must all go into planning the pattern, choosing the colors, calculating the needed threads, setting up the loom’s parameters for the first time.  After that, each time they make the rug, it’s cheaper and cheaper until it becomes profitable.  We have that rug now on our wall at home and each time we go to the school, someone in our group buys the rug. 

Back on the bus, the rugs wrapped into square box shapes and tied with brown paper and white string, we look like we have enjoyed our time at a bakery, not a carpet factory.  Each package is small, but so heavy.  They will fit neatly at the bottom of our suitcases until we can unwrap them in our homes and spread them out onto our floors, smoothing the fringe at the top and bottom of the rug, and walking over the wrinkles until they are gone.  Then each of us can glide barefoot on the wool or silk for years, thinking of Egypt every time.

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Alexandria is home to the Library, opened in 2002. An amazing building with soaring ceilings and a planetarium that looks like the Death Star, the library is one of only two places in the world which claims to have a comprehensive backup of the Internet. However, it has a dearth of books. One of the shelves, for example, held only 5 books under a section of the Dewey decimal system, one of which was “Horoscopes of 1972″ (I have no idea where the other years were). But the library is digitizing every book they get, perhaps in an effort to ensure that there can never be a repeat of the loss history suffered when the original library was burned.

Alexandria, or as it is affectionately called by the locals, Alex, is largely cosmopolitan. It is also uniquely Mediterranean, and indeed it sits on the sea. Once Greg and I wore our galabeyas (the typical Egyptian dress) to Alex and all the locals looked at us as if the hick tourists were in town. Now we know better and wear hip Western clothes, and the looks we get are mostly approving.

In the library, I go into the ladies room, where a group of college girls, all Muslim, are adjusting their taiyas, the head scarves they wear with their blouses and jeans. As I leave the stall, they surround me so curious, and the bravest ones pepper me with questions.

“What is your name?”  ”Halle.”
“Where are you from?”  ”America.”
“How old are you?”  ”41.”
“Do you believe Mohamed is the one true prophet?”

???

Uh-oh. Danger, danger, Will Robinson! If I answer this one wrong I could set Middle East relations back by 50 years. I consider my answer carefully.

“Well, I believe Mohamed was a prophet, just as Jesus and others were prophets, too.”  She nods, satisfied, and launches into an explanation of Muslim religion that I only half follow.  I remember when I was 20 and every word I spoke was a justified pearl.  I am just grateful the road to Alex is still open.

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1. How safe is it?  Everyone ALWAYS wants to know this one.  The answer is, it’s incredibly safe, and if you’re traveling in one of our groups, it’s even more so!  Our groups are registered as VIPs when we enter the country, so we always have a special escort with us.  If you’re traveling with another group, check with them to see what their procedures are.

The simple statistical fact is that Egypt is a much safer place than the US or any country in Western Europe. Personal crime rates are much lower than in the west, and violent crime directed at tourists is unheard of –  Egypt thrives on tourism – I think it’s the 2nd largest national product these days – so they really don’t want anything happening to you. We ran some stats comparing death by violence in Egypt to those in Washington DC, and you are something like 75 times more likely to be killed while vacationing in our fair capitol.

By far the biggest threat you will face in Egypt is from clever friendly locals who are very adept at getting you to buy souvenirs.

2. What shots/medical preparation do I need?  In a word?  None.  Surprisingly to most people, nothing is required, or even recommended, and after watching hundreds of people vacation there, I don’t think those who went to the doctor stateside fared any better once the trip began.  The one thing you may come down with in Egypt is politely called “Pharoah’s Revenge”.  The bad news?  You probably won’t eat for a day.  The good news?  We were all eating like pigs prior to this, so perhaps it’s not so bad after all.  The thing that knocks out Pharoah’s Revenge is a regionally produced antibiotic – Antinol – which is Egypt’s answer to Cipro, and is available at every pharmacy for $1 a box.  DON’T drink local water, DO drink bottled water, avoid the skins of fresh vegetables, and you’ll be fine.  We do recommend travel insurance, though, in case you get sick before you leave, or something comes up on the trip (even lost luggage).  You can get great quotes through our friends at Squaremouth http://www.squaremouth.com/travel-insurance/index.pl?pid=20129

3. What should I wear? If you’re lucky enough to visit Egypt between November and February, pack a sweater.  You’ll need it – the desert gets chilly at night.  During the day, the temperature will be balmy and comfortable.  Any other time, pack like you’re going to Phoenix or Vegas in August.  It’s a dry heat  When you travel with Spirit Quest, we make sure to schedule most activities in the morning or evening, so you can siesta by the pool in the afternoon.  Plan to wear natural fabrics – cotton, silk, or linen are best bets.  Yes, you can wear sport clothes designed to wick the sweat off, but breathable fabrics are always my suggestion.  Bring sturdy walking shoes, ones you can get sand or dirt in, unless you plan to stay in your hotel the whole time. If you are lucky enough to take a Nile Cruise (we always include a 4 star cruise on our trips, because it’s a great way to see most of the country while only having to unpack once, and there’s nothing like sailing the Nile for relaxation) you can wear sporty, casual beach-style clothes.  Really dressy resort wear is hardly appropriate anywhere, and besides, once you’re there a few days you will likely buy a floor length caftan (both men and women) called a galabeya.  If you need something fancy, you can always put this on.  For the ladies, bathing suits are normal if there’s a pool where you’re going, but leave the string bikini/thong at home – it is a Muslim country, after all.  Last, if you are planning on visiting any mosques or certain parts of upper Egypt, ladies will need to plan on bringing something that comes at least to the elbow, and no shorts for men or women in those areas.  A note on shopping – it’s wonderful there, especially many outdoor markets where you can bargain, and everything is very cheap.  Many many of our guests end up bringing back an extra suitcase, and you can always pick one up for about $20 US.  

4.  What special things do I need to pack?  One of my favorite things in the world to bring to Egypt is an Evian Mister, an atomizer with a fine mist of Evian water.  You may be able to find it in your local drug store, or else click this link to buy it http://www.spiritquesttours.com/store.html 
Spray a little on your face or head, and your body temp will feel like it’s dropped 10 or 15 degrees.  Yes, you can use it with make-up, but trust me, if you go when it’s hot, you may want to leave your makeup at home, at least the foundation and mascara.  I’ve seen more women travel up the Nile with raccoon eyes because they weren’t willing to adapt – just a suggestion

Other items include your camera (duh, but you would be surprised how many people forget theirs; power adaptors (you need the kind that work in England, no matter what anyone else tells you!); sunblock – the highest SPF you can find, and try a baby sunblock, which usually is the highest, as well as the gentlest; extra batteries (nothing like standing a the Colossus of Memnon bargaining for batteries you could have bought for $3 at home); and oh!  Ladies, don’t forget tampons and pads – they’re available in the pharmacy, too – but only one kind of each, and that may or not be what you’re used to.

5. How do I communicate with home? Internet cafes are plentiful everywhere, especially Cairo, Luxor, and Alexandria.  If you have international calling on your phone, you should be able to use it – AT&T and Sprint both work internationally for sure, but make sure you have the international coverage.  A satellite phone is best if you are certain to need coverage in the middle of the country, like while cruising up the Nile, but for most people these days a cell phone is fine.  But these days cell coverage is extensive. We’ve made calls from the peak of Mount Moses in the Sinai!

Each of the 4 star hotels Spirit Quest Tours stays in offers wireless in all the rooms and internet at the business center.  Just remember there is a 7-10 hour time difference… and you’re on vacation!

6. Here’s a bonus, since you stuck it out to the end… the most important piece of advice I can give you is, learn a few words of Arabic before you go.  Thank you = shokran (show-krahn’); Good morning = saba al khir (sah-bah’ al – khear’); Tea with milk = chai bi laban (shay’ bee la-bahn’)  This means the world to the Egyptians, and they do love Americans.  You will find that even saying “thank you” in Arabic will bring a smile to everyone’s face.  It will make you more than just a traveler; it will allow you to be what you really are by traveling to this foreign country halfway around the world – an ambassador of peace.