M-whY

"Hi, is this Gian? This is Mark, I heard you found a backpack at Ephesus. I'm in Istanbul right now, where are you at?"

So Gian was already in Syria, following the apparently popular Turkey-Syria-Jordan-Egypt trail. He envisioned reaching Egypt towards the end of January. I was flying to Egypt myself, but wouldn't be staying past the 8th, so meeting up was unlikely.

"I can mail it to you when I get home, if you like," he offered.

"Well, that's okay, there's really nothing I need." Nor was there anything inside valuable enough to warrant sending it from Italy to USA. "Thanks, though."

"Sure, no problem."

I had some stuff to take care of before my flight, things like arranging transportation to the airport, blogging, and picking up a new guidebook. Neither bookstores I found carried anything dedicated to Egypt, and the best I could do was purchasing a Lonely Planet encompassing all of the Middle East. I'm sure I've made it plenty clear how disappointed I am with LP's, particularly ones trying cover more than one country. (My suggestion for future backpackers, don't bother with the 'shoestring' editions. If you stay more than three days in any country, go ahead and buy the entire guide. You'll actually wind up saving money.) Something's always better than nothing though, and now with less than a lira left in my pocket, I ran back to catch the airport shuttle.

I got back to the hostel just in time. In the ensuing rush retrieving my gear from storage, it's a wonder I didn't leave anything else behind. We drove around, picking up more passengers until all seats were filled. "We're going straight to the airport from here, everyone make sure they have everything? Passport? Tickets?" said the driver. "You are happy? I am very happy!"

It's been a long time since I've last flown. Security screenings, check ins, and boardings are a lot more formal at an airport, but it's also a piece of cake compared to overland travel. The inflight meal was my first of the day, and after touching down in Cairo, all the stress and headaches of being an independent returned.

Clearing immigration just took time. US$15 bought me a visa, but the guy at immigration studied my passport so carefully, you'd think he was expecting a quiz afterwards. He paid special attention to my Chinese visas, flipping back to them several times.

"Where did you just come from?" he asked.

"Istanbul."

"And where were you before that?"

"Bulgaria."

He flipped through the pages some more.

"Do you have any other ID on you?"

"No."

Another lengthy pause.

"How long are you staying in Egypt?"

"Two weeks."

For another minute, he mulled over my answers. "Okay," he finally said, stamped my passport, and waved me on. Then came the difficult part. How am I going to get downtown? Approaching the problem one step at a time, I tried getting some Egyptian pounds first. Except the only bank in Arrival Hall 2 wanted a minimum exchange of US$100. I wanted to hold onto my cash for emergencies. "Is there an ATM?" I asked, and was told to go to Arrival Hall 1, which wasn't even located nearby. What the hell, what kind of airport doesn't have ATMs at the arrival gates? On the way there, a number of taxi drivers pestered me for business.

"Hello!? Where you go? Downtown? I take you there. Ten dollars."

"I'm taking a bus."

"There is no bus."

Whatever. At the entrance of Arrival Hall 1, I was stopped by security wanting to know where I was going. "I'm looking for an ATM. A-T-M. To withdraw money?" I eventually got my point across, and they let me in. In the far corner stood several cash machines. Why couldn't they have moved one to Arrival Hall 2??

The ATM dispensed 100 pound notes, and I bought a can of Pepsi so that I might have small bills. The bus station was visible from the parking lot, and dodging taxis, crossed to where a number of metal cages on wheels were idling. And even had I been able to read Arabic numerals, I didn't know which number I wanted.

Maybe I should've just coughed up ten bucks for a taxi...

"Downtown?" someone asked me. I nodded. "That one."

Trusting that he had no reason to mislead me, I climbed aboard and waited. Over the next ten minutes, several more people got on. The fare, including my baggage, cost £1. Roughly US$.20. For the next 40 minutes, we sped in the direction I hoped was downtown.

I knew we were in central Cairo when traffic ground to a halt. Chaotic is the easiest way to describe it. Most vehicles were of the old, fume belching models and didn't have working headlights. Or, more probably, the drivers just chose not to use them. Honking they had no problem with though. The sound of an exotic city, the sight of a different culture, smell of air pollution. Good stuff...

People kept hopping on and off, but I stayed seated until the very end. The entire way, I hoped to spot landmark labeled on my map. The Nile River, the Nile Hilton, the Cairo Tower. Didn't see any. The bus pulled into a depot. "This is downtown," said the man in front of me, noticing my lost expression. "What are you looking for?"

Gut instinct told me I could trust this guy too. "Can you tell me where the Nile Hilton is?" I wasn't going to stay there of course, but the building I could use to orient myself. He didn't know either, but "Follow me," he said, and helped me ask directions in Arabic. "It is nearby," he concluded, and led me across the street. Turns out we were indeed going in the right direction, but he didn't have to take me all the way. I saw a sign indicating the Egyptian Museum, and said I could handle it from there.

"You are okay now?"

"Yes, I know where I am now. Thank you," I said gratefully.

"You are sure? Okay," he said, and walked off in the other direction.

I was about two blocks from the nearest budget accomodation listed in the LP. While headed there, another man sidled up and asked which hotel I was looking for.

"I'm going to Dahab Hotel."

"Really?! That is my hotel! Come, I'll show you."

This time, instinct told me that this guy was up to no good. I ignored him, no longer being lost and knowing Dahab had to be only right ahead.

"Excuse me, excuse me, I am talking to you, are you listening or not?" he began, almost intimidatingly.

"I'm going to Dahab Hotel. It is right over here. If it is your hotel, you can follow me," I retorted, and continued walking. When I reached the building, he was nowhere to be found.

So I didn't end up Dahab after all. A cheaper pension - I forget the name - occupied the same building, and though the decor made me a little wary at first, I relaxed after seeing several other backpackers staying there. Feeling a bit harried, but otherwise safe and sound, I collapsed into bed with... wait, let me check.. yes, all my belongings still on me.

Thanks to everyone for their support and comments! Knowing people are reading keeps me motivated to continue the updates!