I Turn 22 with King Tut

Our last day together in Cairo and we began at the Egyptian museum.  It was my 22nd birthday and I got to spend it with King Tut.  This is one of the most amazing museums in the world--never mind no air conditioning in stifling heat--you are surrounded by papyrus, scarabs, carvings, gold, jewelry, sarcophagi, mummies, and so on, room after room after room.  The Tut find is even more monumental than it's been built up to be.  Impossible as that sounds.

Later, went to the famed Khan el Khalili bazaar. Anant and his friend Ayran (co-grant recipient and a great guy) got mobbed by the vendors--they were clearly tourists hungry for fake rolexes, and so Sarah and I split off from them with a promise to meet up later.  I look Egyptian and so I get good prices if I don't say anything, and anyway we slipped away to the quiet crooked streets away from the souvenir-choked bazaar center, where you could dip into dusty shops where the storekeepers took their tea while playing backgammon, and there Sarah and I found gorgeous inlaid antique boxes.  I was very happy--I was accepted as an Egyptian on sight, was at home bargaining and knew what I should pay for what and got the prices I wanted--and felt true warmth and hospitality.  A couple hours later we all met up near a mosque, and puffing a hookah and drinking Turkish coffee we compared finds--Anant and Ayran were laden with all manner of goods, and we all had an excellent time.  Later that night we celebrated my 22--and coupled with wonderful messages from family and friends from home (thanks guys!), and being with friends in the flesh, sitting on white sofas at a trendy cafe on the nile--I felt very lucky.

Hookah on the Nile

Anant and I opted for yet another late night, and walking down the nile decided to jump onto a boat and go for a sail.  We watched the lights drift by as we laughed about the good times we had had, but we fast realized the wind was too slack to actually sail--our captain would throw the line in intervals at a passing boat, hitch a ride for a while, and then cast off while we listed about the river, watching families pass, dancing on their boats to Arabic music.  It was a perfect way to say so-long to Cairo, and (for now) to my buddy.

Anant and Ayran left the next morning for Luxor, Sarah left for Eilat, so I was on my own to roam the streets.

Sometime in Cairo, I forget when exactly, I was on my own and looking for food.  A man with about three teeth told me all of the kofta stands were closed until dinner but to come to his store.  I thought what the hell and was taken to a little alley way where I had a customary tea while he painted my arms with essence of Papyrus and Lotus, distilled from flowers allegedly in his garden.  He was a real character, and it was a fun experience.

I tried to visit the Citadel--the so-called nerve center of the Muslim world for eons--but I got there late because I had slept in and then binged on CNN.  (A weakness when I am missing home--it can also be hard staying abreast of current events from a hostel.)  Well, the Citadel was closed so I took a walk, deep in an Arab quarter and far from the glitz of the Nile hotels.  I found a tiny coffee shop populated by men playing cards, smoking sheesha (hookah), and drinking tea, and there I sat for two hours, taking part, the only westerner, and making broken talk with a guy my age.  Clearly this was not a place tourists visited and I was welcomed with enormous warmth--hot coals always on the hookah, water with the tea, and two kisses on the cheek on my departure.  It's one of my fondest memories of Cairo--sitting in the dusty street with mechanics behind me, watching the women in veils and the men from work walk by, having a police officer co-opt my water.

Walking still further I found a mosque, and after a hefty payment "to Allah" I was allowed to climb a minaret that looked out over all of Cairo.  Fantastic view.  By now I had walked miles in thick humidity and heat, and was dusty, exhausted, and for the first time in days, without the company of friends.  It took its toll and I found myself grasping for home and familiarity, and well aware that I still had months of travel in front of me, I reached for a tried and true solution.  I took a cab to the Four Seasons Cairo, stepped into the cool maple lobby filled with the muted murmers of the well-heeled, tipped my head to the piano player, sent my postcards to the concierge, and made my way to the bar, which blissfully had an excellent drink menu that didn't skimp on shots.  And overlooking the nile I had a martini and a singapore sling, I read the paper, and I watched the sun set as boats came loose from their moorings and began their night-dance down the river.

I can rumble with the best of them--tromping through mud and braving crocodiles, slipping through Arab slums as the only Californian for miles, sleeping on the floor and taking cold showers.  But every man has his vice, and for me--when things come to a head and I am at my breaking point, it's a well-mixed drink and perfect service.

My moment over, I got ready to rumble--this time on a ten hour bus ride to the Sinai.