Spiritual Journey | Confessions of a Cruise Director

In honor of finishing my first draft of my book Travels Through Egypt I am posting a section on the guys who rent the camels, which is a favorite story – enjoy!

Everyone visiting Egypt wants their picture taken on a camel.  There is therefore no shortage of enterprising young men who hover as close as the Pyramid police will allow and offer to put you up on their camel.  It used to be that you could get up on the camel and have a picture taken, for free.  Of course, it costs a dollar or two if you want to get down!  These days, they also all carry packages of makeshift “Lawrence of Arabia” head wraps, and as you are trying to maneuver your way up onto said camel, will thrust one on your head (whether you are male or female) and ask you to pay for that, too ($5 will cover it, less if you try to give it back first).

I do not care a bit for sitting on or riding camels, though I have done my fair share.  The first time I rode one, he complained.  About having to kneel down so I could mount him, about getting back up again with me on his back, about being led around, and about the way I sat — which could have been no more comfortable for him than it was for me, which is to say not atall!  Camels are the boniest creatures — but how would you like someone sitting on your spine?  So how does a camel complain?  It sounds just like Chewbacca, the giant brown Wookie from Star Wars.  As deep, as resonant, and come to think of it, exactly the same pitch. In fact, this realization caused me to look up Chewbacca’s voice on the internet.  Thank God for Wikipedia, which confirms that indeed, camels were among the voices used to create Chewie’s freakish sound (and bears, and a walrus… in case you were wondering.)

These guys obviously make a living getting you up on the camel and selling you A) junk — pyramids and postcards, along with the Arab hat — and B) the right to get off your camel.  I think of them as camel jockeys, because they are always jockeying for position.  One guy is so aggressive with us he literally grabs one of our group around the waist, and tries to hoist him up.  Carter, who is from East Texas, protests the whole time in his distinctive twang, “No, Ah do not want a ride, thank you very much, cowboy!”  But he ends up on that camel.  Just doing some math, based on the 5 minutes and an average $2 someone spends on a camel, these guys are clearing a hundred bucks a day, easy.  Which is pretty incredible in a country where the average salary is $400… a month!

If you’re a tourista in Egypt, enjoy your camel ride, but remember, it’s far safer on the ground, in several regards…

Ramadan, the most important Muslim holiday, is celebrated for the whole month, and it changes almost everything about Cairo.  Ramadan is a time to get closer to God, making self-sacrifices to be awake and aware of your choices, so people fast all day every day during the month of Ramadan.  This means not only no eating, but no drinking (not even a sip of water), no smoking, no sex, and no smoking!  I think the no smoking stricture may be harder on the Egyptians than no sex.

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.

Visit Spirit Quest Tours to learn about our next spiritual tour to Egypt!

After you’ve been in Egypt for a little while, even a week, you start to realize that a basic understanding of Arabic must start with the following conversation:
“Saba al khir?” (There are three ways to say Good Morning in Arabic, and this is the most common one. It means “Morning the Good.”)

“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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Today we drove to Alexandria. It’s about 3 hours from Cairo by bus (with a 20 minute rest stop at the largest souvenir mall we can find), through desert being largely claimed by homesteaders, and – increasingly frequently –  builders creating communities out in the middle of nowhere. This is distance it once would have taken days to cover by horse or donkey, but now it’s an easy day trip.

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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The price tag was kind of hefty.  I mean, $110 a person, for one night, one meal?  This is Luxor, Egypt, not Luxor, Las Vegas.  We had checked into the hotel that morning, and we weren’t really sure what to expect.  Boy, were we in for a surprise.  It was, after all, the Sonesta St. George, one of the premiere hotels in Luxor, which carries a 5 star rating with rooms and service to match. http://www.sonesta.com/Luxor/

The evening didn’t even kick off until 8pm, giving us a chance to lie down after a long day visiting the temples at Karnak & Luxor, an easy 5-10 minute ride from the hotel.  Dress was semi-formal to formal, and our group of 40 wore either suits and cocktail dresses or galabeyas they had purchased in Luxor or Cairo.  Everyone looked very festive.  Though it is a Muslim country, a nod to the needs of the hotel guests gave us a champagne cocktail hour (well, half hour, really) by the pool.  After that, drinks were available for purchase – I think the cheapest bottle of champagne went for something like $200, though beer and wine were somewhat more reasonable.

The guests drifted into a huge tent set up along the back of the pool, with the total number of people somewhere around 500 at any given time.  Normally, the space is an oversized deck overlooking the Nile, but tonight we couldn’t see the river once inside the tent. Small price to pay once we got to the buffet, though.  The sheer poetry of the food sculptures was impressive enough. Have you ever seen a giant standing fish made entirely of cream cheese, garnished with veggies for fins and face?  And a mermaid, and a pelican? I thought not! Looking at the vast array of food, from the variety of layered pates and savory pastries to the selection of fish, meat, and side dishes, and the desserts (more on them later!) I was struck by the trouble everyone had gone to, by the beauty of the preparations and execution – there were at least 50 kitchen staff on hand, and I suspect many more in the kitchen making sure there was enough of everything for everybody.   

I filled my little plate with giant shrimp, stuffed squid, veal in a savory sauce, and went back at least a couple times to try the variety of pâté en croûte.  The dessert table, which was about 12 feet long, didn’t disappoint, either, with a huge range of everything from petits fours to baklava, chocolate mousse, cheesecake, and that new staple of Egyptian sweets, Spanish flan.  In keeping with the sculpture theme, one dessert featured a piano made entirely from milk chocolate, and the pièce de résistance was the 4 foot long replica of the Luxor Temple, fashioned from gingerbread.

Once the buffet line died down, and everyone got into the important business of eating, the music went live.  This was around the time we noticed the stack of giant speakers, far too close to our table.  Sadly, the first set was an incredible disappointment – two gorgeous girls in skimpy short dresses, wailing away into the microphone on such chestnuts as Volare and La Bamba.  Worst of all, and I really wanted to like them, the lead couldn’t sing and her friend could only do harmonies badly off-key.  We wondered whose girlfriends, or sisters, had been hired.  Who could have owed them a favor this big?  Collectively, we wanted to run screaming from the tent, but luckily we “know people.” Within 10 minutes, the whole stack of speakers near us had been first turned to the wall, and then when that didn’t do the trick, mysteriously disconnected.  Our pals from Quest Travel winked at us and thanked the banquet manager, who shook his head at the unfortunate problem and informed us that there was no engineer who could be spared to “fix the electrics” that night.  Luckily, the girls’ set only lasted another half an hour, and the sound was now far enough from us to be manageable.

The Shrieking Siren Sisters were followed by Egyptian dancers, who wore traditional costumes that looked vaguely Greek or Turkish to me, and then a voluptuous belly dancer.  A young man in our group, only about 22, looked at her and exclaimed, “Boy, she’s fat!” I pulled him aside and gently explained that in many other countries, women are allowed to eat and still considered beautiful.  To be fair, the dancer was curvy, but like most women in Egypt, her rounded belly was considered a great asset.  Judging from the response to her act, many of the men in the room were very happy with her “fat”!  Her performance grew into several others belly dancing, the group eventually flowing from the stage down into the audience where they morphed into a fairly large Conga line that many in our group happily joined.

By this time, we had discovered the party favors, all in gold bags left by our chairs.  In addition to butterfly masks in silver or red, we had various noisemakers and streamers.  But by far the most popular favor was a small baggie of colored papers formed into tight balls.  We couldn’t figure out what they were for at first, but it quickly became clear: why, to throw at your neighbors, of course!  And to be made sport of in return.  We got to know the people at the next table all too well as we lobbed the premade colorful spitballs back and forth at one another, and the men – I mean GROWN men in their 30’s, 40’s and 50’s – quickly reverted to 6 year-olds.

At 11:30pm, I noticed that the dance floor was empty, so I decided Julie the Cruise Director should make arrangements for the most festive of midnights.  I amassed our troops, which despite some atrophy as the magic hour drew closer, still stood at 25 or more.  A few were reluctant, my darling Greg the most vocal among them, but peer pressure is a powerful thing.  At 11:45pm, we all hit the dance floor at once, even Greg, dragged out there by several of the men in our group for solidarity.  Glad for the company, others began to flood onto the floor, and by 11:55pm, the joint was jumping, with an intrepid young man in our group on the stage performing (I swear) several back flips, much to the excitement of the several of the young ladies.  

So it was that at 12pm midnight, still vaguely jet-lagged, the love of my life reached across a crowded dance floor to plant the first kiss of the new year on me.  Since he doesn’t dance and he hates crowds, I took it at a sign that this would be a year of change.  For sure, Luxor lived up to its promise of a great New Year’s Eve party. By 1am, now thoroughly exhausted, we dragged ourselves upstairs to sleep. Yeah, the price tag was well worth it.

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This is the 2nd excerpt from my work-in-progress memoir, Travels Through Egypt.  This is the last part of chapter 3.  If you have a suggestion for the name, let me know.  I’m about halfway through writing it, and I’ll try to publish a chapter a week.

***

Food helps to ground me, but for two days, I foundered, as we traveled from site to site visiting Cairo.  Jet lag, the newness of the Middle East, the strangeness of the “getting to know you” period with the group, and my general work exhaustion, all seemed to overwhelm me until I felt as if I were swimming through sand.  The most important thing I remember from this period, is meeting our guides, Mohamed Nazmy and Emil Shaker.  Emil and Mohamed are the reason we go back to Egypt year after year now, and it was at their suggestion that we eventually began to lead trips.

Mohamed Nazmy, the President of Quest Travel, has always been a bit of an enigma to me. When I first met him, I described him as, “What if a bear and a beagle gave birth to an Egyptian?” These days, he is formidable, a big man with a full face, smooth skin, heavy lidded eyes, and jet black hair with a white Bride of Frankenstein streak at the front.  Mohamed wears Armani suits, and his every gesture is elegant.  His staff is obviously both afraid of him and worshipful of this father figure, who acts as sort of a benevolent dictator.  Everyone in the hospitality business knows Mohamed, and I once scared off a man on the street who was trying to hustle me by telling him I knew Mohamed Nazmy.  I believe Mohamed has done more for spiritual travel in Egypt than perhaps any other man, and he counts Marianne Williamson, Greg Braden and Graham Hancock among his many luminary friends.

To Greg and me, Mohamed is a teasing boy, who giggles and loves practical jokes and surprising people with gifts, unexpected opportunities, or little extras that he knows will make his guests happy. On our first trip, he looked in Greg’s and my eyes and called us his brother and his sister.  He obviously saw something there we did not, since at the time we would never have guessed we would come back to Egypt again and again.

Last year, I nicknamed him Momo, and to my surprise, the name stuck, and now Mohamed has taken to signing his e-mails Momo, or Big Mo (which is larger than life like he is, but sounds too gangstery to fit).  But, in typical Momo fashion, woe to the staff member who calls him by his nickname.  They all still refer respectfully to “Mr. Mohamed,” at least to his face. 

Momo is the most incredible marketer I know of, and has mentored me on many of his secrets over the years.  But his best one is simply understanding the dynamic of many of the people who visit, knowing to always give them nothing less than the trip of a lifetime.  For each of his guests, this is his goal, and that he almost always achieves it can, in Egypt, be nothing short of a miracle.

Emil and Mohamed have been friends for over twenty years.  Emil was born in Luxor, not just the city, but on the actual grounds of the temple, which in those days was still full of mud structures that were formed on three sides, and attached to a wall of the temple.  Emil can stand at the entrance to the main Luxor temple compound, point just behind the left Collossus, and say he was born there. Needless to say, Egypt’s in his blood.  When he was a kid, the authorities came in and kicked everyone out of Luxor temple and demolished all their homes, making way for the badly needed temple refurbishment in anticipation of the growing tourist trade, made possible by the advent of cheap plane travel. 

Emil was, by his own gleeful admission, a bad boy.  He will tell you as many stories as you like to prove this to you.  For example, when he was a kid, an old man who lived near him married a young, beautiful woman and was having sex with her every night.  Their bedroom was on the second floor, and Emil used to shinny up the metal downspout next to the window, so he could watch.  After a few weeks, the old man got wind of it, and wired the pipe to a circuit.  The next time Emil grabbed the pipe, Emil got a jolt of electricity that knocked him to the ground.   When he tells this story, he laughs uproariously and slaps his leg. 

At fifteen, Emil got into so much trouble, his mother decided he had to leave Luxor, and sent him away to school.  Eventually, he went to Cairo University and became an Egyptologist, and it was in this capacity that he met, and began working for, Mohamed Nazmy.  Emil has less than a full set of teeth, and even less hair, but women for some reason find him devastatingly attractive.  On every trip, they fight over Emil.  Who does he like best? Which one will he end up with?  I’ve seen a seventy year-old and a thirty year-old go nuts over the guy.  Emil gets the last laugh, flirting with everyone, making all kinds of promises, but when I ask him if he ever follows through, he says, “No! I am a good boy,” and gestures dismissively.  I almost believe him, but the seventy year-old seemed especially determined.

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This is the first entry in the excerpts of my work-in-progress Egypt memoir, tentatively titled, “Travels Through Egypt” (if you can think of a name you like better – that still has the word Egypt in it – please let me know!)  After 10 years of travel to many cities throughout Egypt, and with 5 years under me as “Julie the Cruise Director” for Spirit Quest Tours, I have some interesting stories to tell. Sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking, the Egypt I have experienced is always warm, welcoming, and one of my favorite places to be on the planet. I hope you enjoy my stories, and that Egypt is brought to life for you as you read them.  I also hope you will make comments, good OR bad, about what you think of the writing and the material, as it will help me make some decisions as I get into the editing process.

From Chapter III – All the Firsts

In the fall of 1997, Greg came to me.  We were working about a hundred hours a week – each – on a project, and we were exhausted.  He told me about this trip to Egypt he wanted to take, which included a Nile cruise.  At the time I couldn’t have cared less about Egypt, but the idea of cruising the Nile for two weeks sounded so much better than sleeping in the office that I agreed.  The following May, we took the first of what was to become an annual pilgrimage.

Egypt is an incredible place, and though so much has been written about it no one exaggerated.  It’s an amazing dichotomy, too, of the ancient coupled with the not-so-old.  Nothing in Egypt is new, really; they are about 20 years behind America, just like any third world country.  This, coupled with a thick layer of sand, dust and dirt, keeps many things looking much older than they are.  We have always found the people there friendly to the point where we call them family when we see them again.  They will tell you to your face – they love Americans, they hate our President.  But they don’t even seem to blame us for voting for him… twice. 

The first time I saw Cairo, I thought, “God, what have we done?”  The flight was just circling to land, and all we could see was these buildings, many of them looking no better than huts, all drowning in the desert.  And smog so thick I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to breathe once we landed.  Not much of an improvement, since in those days they still allowed smoking in the back of international flights.  As if the canned air in the back of the plane wasn’t toxic to those in the front.  At least once we landed we would be out in the open.

The Cairo airport did nothing to improve my first impression.  Now it’s been remodeled, with lots of shopping added, and vast halls of marble and carved stone, but ten years ago it looked as dilapidated as the airport in Bulgaria, a leftover relic from the Soviet Bloc.  We stood in a sprawling group, waiting for all our luggage to arrive and be identified

I had never traveled with a group before, despite extensive trips all over Europe since I was very small.  With everyone sleeping on the flight, no one had really met yet, and now, after over 16 hours of travel, everyone was too tired to socialize.  But we noticed a blond woman with hair down to her waist, traveling alone, and I went over to introduce myself, drawn to her somehow despite my exhaustion.  Lynn and Greg and I have been best friends ever since, the trip solidifying our initial connection to each other.  Honestly, I don’t know how groups can help but bond with each other, with everyone exhausted, wearing the same rumpled clothes for over two days and all smelling of unwashed teeth and armpits.  It’s bond, or kill each other.  Perhaps this is how early humans survived.

Eventually, after passport control and a 45 minute ride to the hotel, we all collapsed in our rooms.  They told us the Giza pyramids were right outside our windows, but by this time, it was too dark to see.  They would just have to wait until morning.

The next day, I awoke in cool smooth Egyptian cotton sheets, heavy drapes covering the windows.  I was not sure it was morning, but the balcony of our room beckoned, and I rolled out of bed to see our view.  The green rolling gardens were a surprise, as was the blue water of the vast pool not too far down the lawn.  As my happy eye swept up, I finally saw what all the fuss was about – the Pyramids and the famed Giza Plateau seemed like they were only across the street. 

 These triangles of stone are inexplicable.  From the outside, even from a distance, they seem so much more romantic than their simple shapes would warrant.  The view from our window, like much of the Mena House, features the Great Pyramid itself, the largest of the three structures that make up the pyramid complex.  Even over a mile away as the crow flies, you can tell it’s a big sucker.

We were staying, as we always do, at the Mena House hotel, legendary as the best hotel in all of Cairo.  A former hunting palace, the armistice which ended World War II was signed in what is now its main building.  It has a vaguely Moroccan theme, which suits the over-the-top décor in the main lobby, all glass chandeliers and gilt mirrors.  My favorite part of the hotel has always been the pictures from the late 19^th or early 20^th century, which feature the couple who owned the hotel, their guests, and the many servants, horses and camels who must have made up the bulk of any establishment’s staff in those days.  There is one picture of the lady, setting off on her afternoon ride, sidesaddle, with a full skirt and a Gibson hairdo.  A little black boy waits beside her, in full uniform.  It might have been 100 degrees that day, but there she goes, off into what can only be described as a fairly uncivilized heat.  Between the Egyptian and Indian climate, I think they must have built the English braver in those days,.

The main restaurant also overlooked the Great Pyramid – well, not so much overlooked as “sat right next to,” so the first day we were pretty overwhelmed by this iconic image we’d all read about, sort of looming about the breakfast table like the elephant in the room.  The pyramid was so tall, in fact, and we so close, that when you stood you couldn’t see the top, so it just seemed like a grayish wall.  Then you would sit down, and there would be this pyramid, having breakfast at your table with you. 

Many of the Egyptian hotel and restaurant staff people were trained in the way of French cuisine and service. So they do a wonderful job with food in Egypt, while there is none of the reputed French attitude (in France, a waiter almost kicked Greg out of a restaurant for ordering coffee, bread, cheese and fruit – at the same time, quelle horror!) The breakfast is sumptuous at the Mena House, and you can pick from made-to-order or a full buffet.  One of the first things I couldn’t wait to try was the local yoghurt with black honey – dark and treacly, it looked just like molasses, which was exactly what it turned out to be, only with a much more exotic name.  They do the whole silver tea and coffee service, and the waiters and the kitchen staff fawn on you.  I once sent my scrambled eggs to exchange for fried, and the chef himself came out with my plate to make sure I was happy with them.

My first Arabic words were “Chai, bi laban” (shay, bee lahbahn, with a break after the first word and the second and third ones all run together).  This means “tea with milk.”  My mother raised me to be polite, so the second thing I learned was “min fadlak” (min fud’luk), which means “please.” However, right after that I learned that you say “min fadlik” if it’s a woman, and “min fadlak” if it’s a man, and I got them mixed up.  So then I thought, “it’s ‘lick’ if it’s a woman, and ‘luck’ if it’s a man,” (Greg, trying to help, told me “Lucky men lick women”) and then I decided maybe I should stop trying to learn Arabic.

Most of the guests who come on our trips have never been to Egypt before – hey, some of them have never left their country before!  We want to make everyone comfortable and at ease, but we do always get the same questions in advance of a trip and after ten years, I thought this should be the first thing I address in my brand new blog!

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.