Best Laid Plans...

A fool once said that traveling alone has its merits, and how much better it is to travel alone, not making plans, just letting the wind take him wherever he may go.

I am that fool.

My plans for the day were to relax, sit back, read on the computer, and enjoy the hotel. Perhaps, if I need to stretch my legs, I would walk around this neighborhood of Zamalek.

Instead, I wound up here.

This definitely needs a little bit of background information.

It all begins with a Chinese spy.

After a fabulous week of being alone, traveling alone, eating alone, walking alone, this stranger comes up and asks me about my project. 

And then things started happening.

"Hey, what are your plans for tomorrow," she innocently asked.

"I intend to relax, read the manuals and project literature, just stay in the hotel."

"Oh. Have you been to the Egyptian Museum or pyramids yet?"

"Yes, I have. Both."

"Oh. I wanted to do both. This is my first time in Egypt and I am über-excited about seeing it all." (These are not really her words but I edit for the sake of a good story).

After a week of being alone, perhaps a little company would be good. Besides, now that I have been here a week, I can act as a host, show her where things are located, get her there. We can go to the museum, then be back with enough time for me to do the reading and researching I wanted to do. And who needs to stare at a computer all day.

"OK, I will be kind and take you to the Egyptian Museum. It was nice, it would be fine for me to go there and spend another hour or two. I will take you."

The next morning began as usual. Breakfast, then we head out. The walk was nice, especially since this time I knew where I was going. It was cooler than last week, by about 4-5F, but it made for a pleasant walk.

I knew it would be a good day when I found this sign outside the hotel door.

We get to the Museum, and her giddiness factor starts going through the roof. From outside the complex, we can see statuary, and she begins naming the pieces and deciphering the hieroglyphics. Hey, this will be neat. I couldn't read that stuff before, I was here to see the museum and the vast amounts of stuff. With her, I can actually learn something.

Outside, a man approaches us telling us we can't get in because the museum was only allowing groups to enter. And he just kept talking. And talking. And I don't know what he was saying.

I finally got him to leave, and Rachel (the "UCLA PhD student") and I walked into the museum.

Outside the building itself, she went up to each single piece identifying them more and reading the hieroglyphics. There are not a lot of pieces outside, but enough to keep an individual busy for a long while.

This all began at about 11:30am. That is the time we arrived at the museum complex.

She liked everything outside.

Inside, her excitement was catching. As a museum professional, I love seeing people get excited about museums. I encouraged that. We spoke about stuff. She taught me about all the pre-Hellenistic Egyptian materials, I taught her what I could about Hellenistic and beyond materials. This is easy, since Michigan Karanis materials are stored and displayed here. What else is there to know?

The rules at the museum still prohibit photography, so I only have a few to share.

She liked everything inside, too. And I saw things I had missed the first time. There must be well over 100,000 pieces on display, and trying to see all of them will make anyone's head explode.

We tried.

The museum closes at 6pm. I now know how quiet it gets inside when everyone is out.

It was glorious. We closed the museum. We were there for over 6 hours.

Outside, we took more looks at the outside sculpture. And then we realized we needed food. And rest. It had been a long day. I needed to eat. She needed to buy a belt. 

As we started walking, a man walked near us and spoke about the museum, and how much there is there. I nodded my head, thinking he was a tour guide being a little too friendly. 

The spy had other ideas.

"We were there all day!" she says. Why are you encouraging him?

"Is good museum. I work there!"

"Oh, yeah, uh huh. Fabulous museum." I was trying to make my escape.

"I work with the animal mummies." 

Say what?

"Yes, I work with animal mummies."

So, you're not just a guide, I thought.

"I am Dr. Shareef Zaky. I work here."

"Well, wow. We are archaeologists. We work in Fayoum. We are not just mere tourists."

"You are Egyptologists?"

"Yes!" telling only a half lie. "I am at University of Michigan. She is in California."

"Here, let me give you my information. You come back some time, I show you the basement. I don't meet many Egyptologists from America."

There's no basement at the Alamo!

"Uhm...well...uh.....YES!"

Neither one of us had a business card handy, so he wrote his name and information on a scrap of paper and gave it to me.

"Thank you so much. This is very kind."

"Where do you go now?"

"Well, we are hungry, and she needs to buy some supplies."

"Oh, what supplies?"

"Sharpie. Clip board. Belt."

"I show you where to buy them. And you can join me for tea. I go where museum workers go, and Opera House employees. No tourists."

I glance at Rachel, ready to commit, but wondering if her dubious spy ways were setting me up for something wicked.

"Yes, we will follow you."

Why was I so trusting of this stranger?

We followed him, across the busy streets. Down dubious alleys. Around the corners. Into this tea shop that we would not have walked into had we not been with him. 

The crowd of people inside stared at us the entire time.

Had we, obvious tourists, ruined their perfect hide away?

Shareef ordered for us, teas for he and I, coffee for Rachel. Juice for himself.

And shisha, because why not.

Apple-tasting shisha.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes, we will need some food."

"You want falafel, or koushery?"

"Falafel sounds great, but we should go for koushery."

Then, Shareef disappeared.

While he was gone.

OK, that last picture was a mistake, but it contributes to a funny story.

Moving on.

Shareef shows up after 10 minutes, with a bag in hand.

Inside the bags, two orders of koushery. One for Rachel, one for me.

How sweet!

"How much was this?"

"Is a gift."

Well, isn't that nice.

Over the next hour, we spoke about our work. He told us about his courier work with the King Tut exhibit to the Met. He spoke about his daughters. He told us where to go. There was a festival with dancing. Free for tourists. There are mosques with dancing. Free for tourists. There are freshly cut oils. My tattoos make others think I am a criminal. But he still likes them.

Uhm, sure. Sounds interesting. Show me on my phone where to find all these events.

He points to spots on the Cairo map, but mostly general areas rather than anything too specific.

During this, I write down on a scrap of paper my address and contact information.

Is this your CV?

Nice zinger.

"I need to meet my daughter at 8:30pm. Before I have to do that, I will show you where to buy your supplies. Belt you can buy anywhere."

We finished our drinks, and made our way out. I covered our drinks.

"Don't leave a tip. If you tip now, they will expect baksheesh from me every time I come. No tip!"

Why was I so trusting of this stranger?

We followed him for what felt like miles, but was in actuality just a few blocks.

We went into two stationary stores, and found Rachel's supplies there.

"Ah, you just get here yesterday? Then I need a favor. I need champagne for daughter. She is engaged in two days."

Yeah, sure. We can do that.

We walked again.

Why was I so trusting of this stranger?

After more blocks, or what felt like miles, we wind up at a duty free shop. Rachel can buy, but because I have been in the country for more than a day, I cannot. She had already purchased two bottles herself at the airport, so was only allowed one more bottle for him. The champagne became vodka.

"OK, now I show you where to get the oils."

Sure, sounds like an exciting experience.

Again, we follow.

Why was I so trusting of this stranger?

We enter a store with the tackiest papyri framed on the walls.

And we go upstairs.

The store clerk greets us. We sit down on some couches. He begins talking.

Freshly cut lotuses. Makes great oils and perfumes. Due to Muslim culture, he cannot use alcohol in the perfumes. Makes the scents better, and they don't evaporate like American perfumes.

Wait, so instead of killing the prime minister of Azerbaijan, this spy network is getting me to buy a time-share....I mean, perfumes?

These perfumes look like they have been bottled for a while. How fresh are they?

What the hell is this?

Why was I so trusting of this stranger?

I have my Christmas/souvenir shopping all set.

I haven't smelled this good in ages.

How can you turn this down?

I get some gifts. Rachel gets her own. Shareef buys some for his daughter.

We conclude our business. We are offered papyri. We gently turn it down.

We take some pictures.

"Where do you go next? Dancing at festival, dancing at mosque, or back to Zamalek?"

"Well, I think Rachel and I will speak outside and decide."

"OK, I show you where to go for each. You go this way for Zamalek. You go this way, down the street until it ends, then make a left. Then down that street until it ends. You find Islamic area. You go to Muhamed Ali mosque. Go inside. Festival is one time only. You can go there, too."

He gives me a hug. He really wants to give Rachel a hug. He tells her it is customary to give a kiss on the shoulder. No, both shoulders. Rachel obliges. Shareef is a happy man.

Shareef goes off to find his daughter.

Overwhelmed, Rachel and I look at each other.

"So, Rachel, how was your first day in Cairo?"

"Oh yeah, it was pleasant. Not much happened. You?"

"You know, same old thing. Went to the museum."

OK, what next? Tired? Or go exploring?

"How often will you get a chance to enjoy either of those experiences?" she coyly asks. But then which one? The festival seems far away. And we have somewhat directions to the mosque area. Let's start walking that way.

I guess I am protective. Maybe it was because I was acting as host to this newcomer. Maybe it was because I am a University staff member and she is a student. Maybe it was because she is a female and I am a male.

Why else did it really bother me the kind of stares the men, and in some cases women, were giving Rachel?

It was creepy.

This, added on top of the driver that brought her from the airport to the hotel who kept trying to touch her hair, really bugged me. Why? I even asked her. I have no ties to you. I just met you. Why is this so bothersome?

We made our way into the Islamic area, and then we got confused.

Wait, do we keep going?

There's a mosque.

Yeah, but we have to keep going. This is not it.

How about that one?

That huge padlock indicates it is locked.

Well, we can either keep walking hoping to get to the right area, and hope we find the mosques he mentioned, or call it a night and head home.

We called it a night.

OK, just another block that way, according to my maps, is a park. It is along the way to July 26th street, which we need to get to our bridge to Zamalek. Let us go there.

Fine, let's check it out.

Hey, look at the park. A souq broke out. We can find you a belt there.

Well, not here. No good belts.

We keep walking. Plenty of shops along the way.

25 pounds for belt.

No, 5.

25.

10.

No.

The others around gathered round. The vendor put the belt on Rachel. He got too touchy feely. I did not like it. We left.

They laughed. They yelled "Good bye, Americans! Good bye!"

This happened twice, but without the touchy feely the second time.

Was I supposed to feel bad they were waving us good bye?

We finally chatted with a third man.

25 pounds.

5.

No.

10.

15?

He did not reply. We agreed on 15. He even punched a new hole in her belt.

OK, I gave him 15.

"No, you owe me 10 more."

"La, you agreed to 15. You agreed."

He looked around.

No, 25.

We agreed!

He looks around again.

OK, 15.

On one condition.

A quick peck on the cheek.

From Rachel, not me.

She agreed.

I tried to get money back for the peck. That was worth more than the belt.

We left. I got no money.

We continued our walk.

The men continued to stare.

I continued to get frustrated.

I kept losing her to all the shiny.

I tried bargaining for things. We bought nothing else.

She stopped to stare at several fights. She likes arguments. Apparently she does not have enough of them.

Thankfully, I was not the cause of any of these fights.

We wind up back in Zamalek, had some salads for a late dinner, and plenty of fresh juices.

And we sat in amazement of our day.

Why was she so trusting of this stranger?

At 11:30pm, we returned to the hotel.

All because I followed someone. And I did not take the day off.

And we finish the way we began.