Rising before 7am the streets are silent, likely due to the late night feasting going on till just hours before. Mom and I somehow dressed like twinsies, but with limited options while on the road I had to just deal and move on; forward into the lazy hazy crazy days of summer.
Rasheed was our guide for the day and offered us oodles of info about the stops we'd be making and places we'd be seeing.
First stop were the ancient, like more ancient than the Giza group, Saqqara pyramids. These are crude versions of the photos we're used to seeing and though I was only mildly interested mom was as excited as the first day of school with a new Jansport and she and Rasheed walked the length of the area chatting about history and the obligatory geopolitical issues effecting both the Middle East as wel as Sacramento, California.
Rasheed was a lovely man who was generous, inviting both my mother and myself to have dinner in his home with his family, and informative but I far prefer to wander and ponder solo - or with a trusted friend. The experience of someone telling me what to do and when to do it was a challenge. A challenge sure, but seemingly necessary to get into these 'attractions' as it were, so I accepted it as we entered tombs carved with figures of owls and hieroglyphic depictions from writers of the past. The insides of tombs were unimpressive with the exception of the mere preservation of shape and color throughout the years, made even more impressive when shown to you by a fragrantly friendly man who clearly did not have a good dental plan. It was while exploring one of these tombs that my mother lost her camera and I had immediate dad dejavu - as he lost his phone in Morocco years before. Parent-Child-Parent, I am telling you!
Bouncing in the backseat of our van for the day, meandering through the rocky roads of nowheresville Egypt I am reminded of what I love about these foreign countries, so foreign to me and the way of American life. It always takes me a while to remember this and when I do it is always contingent upon my escaping the metropolis of a capitol city and seeing where the real people live.
Stop #2 was essentially just a pit stop for relics. The most prominent of which was a partially broken and horizontal statue of Ramses the II who's legs were so gorgeous that I was dying to be Nefertari to his Ramses. Whomever made the term Greek God ubiquitous in our culture clearly had not spotted the royal Egyptians. With his uncanny resemblance to the man who owns my heart, Ramses soon became my favorite of the folklore.
I find when booking these excursions there are always seemingly spontaneous stops and local artisans and vendors. Though always feeling a bit duped, I have never been to a papyrus gallery before, so why the hell not. And they had air conditioning to boot!
A hard negotiator, not even a marriage proposal got me to purchased an overpriced piece of paper, but dear old mom, with 'tourist' stamped proudly in Comic Sans on her forehead went ahead and got two pieces sure to hang on her pink walls alongside my senior photo project soon!
On the particular voyage, on this particular day, they saved the best for last - and that was the Great Pyramids of Giza.
After being deposited in a back alley and listening to our options for the one hour photo-op excursion or the three hour trek around the Great Pyramids of Giza and the Sphynx it was a no brainer - lets go all in.
We paid the fee and mounted our respective camels, both of whom looked a little worse for wear but mine was named Mickey Mouse so I felt an immediate kinship. I can honestly and accurately now tell all of those who have not had the fortune of straddling a camel for an extended period of time that A) it is maybe the best workout I have ever had, putting Suzanne Sommers and her ThighMaster to shame and B) it is extraordinarily uncomfortable. This discomfort is only made worse when you split your brand new Hammer pants on Khafre pyramid while mounting it which is most likely illegal and most definitely frowned upon but something our guide insisted I did so, as I climbed up the third large stone I heard it and has the ultimate fat girl experience; all of a sudden the desert became far less hot and stuffy.
With at least 90 minutes to go it was vagina to camel the rest of the ride and the thin, woolen and most certainly not sterile blanket separating Mickey's boney back from my baby maker was by no means going to HELP my current UTI. My clever sister pointed out that this gave camel-toe a brand new meaning. And she was right.
After circumnavigating the three pyramids which were roughly the size of the Hollywood W hotel were impressive because they are famous, garnering them the title of the wonder of the world, but other than that, my awe was not inspired. When coming down the mountain back toward the city that building on has finally been halted almost butted up against this ancient spectacle is 4,500 year old butt plug known as The Sphynx. Disrespectful, maybe - but look at it from the back and you will know what I am saying!
The Sphynx is also diminutive in size and was surrounded by a bevy of Asian tourists and selfie sticks so our encounter was brief, but pleasing.
After wrapping my face in a sparkly scarf and having my Lawrence of Arabia moment it was time to head back to Mickey Mouse's home where a handful of robed men and a fresh watermelon, served in the filthy hands of the camel wranglers. Honestly, I was equal parts shocked and proud that mom took more than one slice from the warm if soiled men who offered us this gift.
Good job, mom!
By now Rasheed was our bestie so it barely even registered when he brought us by the parfumerie before getting back to the hotel so we could learn about essential oils, their functions and, most importantly, their price - as my mother purchased a gallon of some goodness from the gods.
Though the Cairo Inn is where our bags lay in wait, it was not our home base anymore and we grabbed some cash and a cab during what I imagine is Egyptian rush hour to rish to the train station where nothing, not even numbers, are written in English, with the exception of KFC located on the second floor.
As resourceful as ever I interrupted some guards having their first meal of the day to locate Platform 8 where we waited and I cooled my jets after the cabbie had so clearly taken advantage of my mother's naiveté and taken far too large a sum for our quick ride directly out of her hand.
We had splurged for a sleeper car and after being served an unappealing meal and sorting out how to lower the top bunk I was fast asleep - face down, no joke.
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