The Pyramids...the Semi-Illegal Way.

Our tour guide told us to pose like this. I'm not sure why.

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James, Anant, Aryan and I did not start our day until noon. Between the boys' gambling habits and my general exhaustion, I don't think we could've budged any earlier. Our late start, however, meant that we did not embark for the pyramids until around 5:00 pm. This was a mistake.

The drive to Giza was ridiculously long, a result of the insane traffic. We got there around 5:45 or so, only to discover that the foot path to see the pyramids closed at 4:30. As a result, ‘guides' began harassing our cab to offer us private tours.

The first guides to stop our car were clearly phonies. Our driver, saint that he was, quickly understood this and waved them away, telling them no, no, no. The guides became more persistent, opening our car doors and even trying to shove themselves into the vehicle. At this point hell broke loose; a shouting match erupted and our driver finally slammed his door on one of the guides’ legs, speeding away as soon as possible. About five seconds later we saw a few teenagers loitering in the middle of the streets. Flashback to Nairobi, where Kenyans employ this tactic to hijack cars. My friend Katheryne, with whom I stayed in Nairobi, was always told to step on the gas and duck in such a situation. It's exactly what our driver did. Sure enough, the kids backed off.

Finally, a more 'reliable' tour guide offered us a fair(er) price to take us to the pyramids by horse. HORSE. By this point I'm aware that we'll be out after sunset in Giza, which is not a safe city, with a sketchy guide, and suggest that we save our trip for another time. No go. To James, this is another adventure. To Anant - well, he'll take an adventure if it comes his way, so sure. Why not.

After a decent walk, we find and mount our horses. Our guide pulled me and Aryan along while Anant and James rode solo.

At one point, Aryan and I got far ahead of Anant and James, who were busy discussing SigEp and more SigEp and Stanford and more SigEp. Finally Aryan turns to me.

"Your friend...he's nice, but he's crazy."

*

I've been told there's only one entrance to the pyramids where the view is totally absent of city life. We took that route, trekking up hills of sand while my emaciated horse stumbled from time to time.

"Sarah...you happy?" my tour guide asked for the sixth time.

"Yes." No. After having a kafiya stuffed on my head, a pepsi bottle forced into the palm of my hand, and a strange man pulling me on horse into a sandy area of the pyramids, no. I was not happy.

"Ok, good. Smile sarah. Beautiful Sarah."

I flashed a smile - an 'I want to kill you while looking like a woman in a 1950's add' smile.

As we neared the pyramids, I noticed we also neared several tourist police officers donning perfect white uniforms. "Habib!" our guide exclaimed while shaking the policeman’s hand. In that fashion, he bribed almost every tourist police officer in order to inch near the pyramids.

"It's ok, Sarah, it's ok." At this point I began wondering whether this was a legal entrance to the pyramids. Was it just a cultural expectation, like in Kenya, that you bribe police officers all over? Quite possibly. Or, were we bribing them to let us visit an area that is technically off limits? It was quite fascinating - I've heard a million stories of corruption, but this was my first encounter up close and personal.

As pissed as I was to be riding on horseback for over 2 hours at dusk in Giza, I have to admit the view was stunning. Romantic. Mind-boggling. You see the pyramids in art history books and in pictures and postcards and then you're right there, at the only surviving ancient wonder of the world. And they're absolutely huge, and amazing, and you wonder 'how did people 2000 years ago pull this off? We couldn't do this today...'

We stopped to take pictures on a camel and then re-mounted the horses. While I waited for the others, my horse decided to take a bit of a snooze, collapsing to the ground with me in the saddle. I lurched forward and roughed up my hands a bit, but that was the worst of it (thank god). Until this point, I was hoping my horse's stumbles were a result of rugged terrain, not exhaustion. Nope; this horse needed food and rest. The next time I got off my horse, it simply lay down on its side while the others remained standing. It looked dead.

We got off the horses once more to hear our guide’s explanation of the pyramids. His narrative was exquisite, eloquent, insightful. "This one...this is the big one...150 meters. This is medium-height pyramid, and this is small-height pyramid." And then we got the height of the latter two. "Would you like to touch the pyramid?" It is nearly dark. "Yeah, sure lets do it," says James. I stay quiet for a minute or two.

"Will we see the Sphinx before sunset if we touch the pyramids right now?"

"Yes, of course," says our guide.

No way.

And then I suggest that we go straight to the Sphinx. And Anant and Aryan and James agreed. Yes. One point for Sarah. By the time we arrived at the Sphinx we could hardly see it.

We reached the street after nightfall. My horse kept stumbling. I was absolutely exhausted. Meanwhile our guide kept making my horse gallop. STOP, I kept telling him; I don't know how to ride a horse, I keep bouncing up and down, and I’d really like to get home in one piece. He would laugh, and then stop, and apologize. Ugh, men. They never listen.

My horse took one final, big stumble on the street before I nearly started bawling. Flashback to my last day of pre-frosh Outdoor Action, where due to fatigue, frustration, and loneliness I bawled nonstop. But I didn't cry. (Two points for Sarah.) And after our guide got into one more fight with a man in an alley - we were trying to pass through, and the man wouldn't let us - we finally, FINALLY got off our horses and headed back to Cairo.

By the time we got to the hotel, I was at the end of my rope; I needed some silence, sanity, calm. While James, Anant, and Aryan ventured into Cairo in pursuit of a more authentic dining experience, I sat down at the hotel restaurant and treated myself to a good meal.

About a half hour into dinner, I heard a loud bagpipe and tablas; I looked back and a beautiful bride began descending down the staircase...An Egyptian wedding! The first thing I noticed: she wasn't fully covered, nor was anybody else in the wedding. For a split second, I feared for her safety. It was bizarre, but in two days I had grown so accustomed to seeing fully-clothed women that the sight of anything else seemed inappropriate...even though I myself was wearing t-shirts and track pants every day. After recovering from that initial jolt, the scene itself was beautiful - the singing, the clapping, the cheering, the dancing.  It was nice to see something so positive and hopeful after such a crazy, frustrating day.