"How much to El Ma’adi?"

Margaret was again on the haggling front-foot, this time the taxi-driver was the spit of Peter Sellers. In fact he very much reminded me of his "Mr Birdie Num Nums" character from the 1968 flick, The Party. I know the character in the film was of Indian descent, but this guys uncanny accent and resemblance to the comic genius was quite amusing. Okay, it was late.

Mr Sellers: "80 Egyptian Pound, madam!"

Us: "Fine, let’s go!"

In retrospect, this was well over priced and hasty from our side, but our flight from Luxor to Cairo was a late one, and that was compounded by waiting an eternity for our luggage to materialise on the carousel in Terminal 1. In short, there was no haggling fight. It was a case of foregoing the equivalent of 4 GBP, just to be out of the airport and on our way to our hotel. This was hasty as I said, as giving an experienced haggler quarter so early, usually means they will push for more of a deal. We approached the little black Lada, thinking "What have we done?".  Our first suit-case fitted in the boot, the second and largest had to go on top in a makeshift rack, the bulky red suitcase almost dwarfing the roof of the car. Sitting inside the cab, the petrol fumes were exceptionally overpowering. And, no surprises, there was not a seat belt in sight. Margaret and I looked at one another, grinned and acknowledged this is one of those travel moments you just need to embrace and get on with.

Peter Sellers, sat in the cab, and quipped.

"I just need to get one more passenger, to cover the 10EGP parking fee!".

Clearly, this Cairenne chancer thought his luck was in. He had two people who hadn’t even haggled, and were paying over the odds. There was bound to be one more gullible guppy to fry in that airport. This is the reason why, you never give any mileage to a haggler, because sure enough they will introduce a sub-clause or two into the deal, and before you know it, you are sitting in the back of a mobile Molotov cocktail with a donkey on your lap. But, despite our mistake, Margaret recovered quickly. Before the driver even made for his door handle to go in search of another gullible punter, Margaret was out with a fiery retort, which if any hotter would have ignited this Lada and done the motoring industry a favour.

Margaret: "Right, we are leaving!"

Margaret had opened the door and was half out the taxi and I was making for the same.

Mr Sellers, clearly seeing he was dealing with a haggling contender after all, capitulated, and said.

Mr Sellers: "Right, of course madam, whatever you want!"

He then spent the next 20 minutes trying to get this wee camel’s-fart of a cab out of the grid-lock that was otherwise known as the Cairo domestic terminal car park. A near impossible feat as it appeared traffic was hemming us in from all sides. Eventually, we managed to escape it, much to the delight of Mr Sellers. As we left the airport terminal, the traditional tourist greeting was given… "Welcome to Egypt!" This is usually followed by the ever helpful driver pointing out places of interest. In doing so he gives grounds for Baksheesh. Fortunately, we had done the run already and I had paid attention to the landmarks. There’s nothing more annoying than having a little ginger smart-arse in the back of your taxi-cab, I’m sure the Egyptian taxi driver hand-book says ….. Yes that would the Baron Palace on our left"…..With that little revenue avenue annihilated, our driver requested if we had a hotel. "Yes, we do, the Sofitel Maadi. Take us there!". I was expecting an offer of a better hotel, but none came. There are a number of taxi-driver sponsored hotel scams in Cairo, according to the Lonely Planet, so we were braced for yet another verbal assault that in the end was unnecessary.

A few minutes into the ride and still within the bounds of the airport, Mr Sellers pulls over. "Here comes the rub", I thought. Actually, it turned out that our red suit case was sliding in the roof rack, and for fear of it falling off (and concussing an innocent donkey) he put it in the front passenger seat. How he would have dealt with another passenger beggars belief! Failing that little incident, the major issue with the journey was the fact that it appeared we had the slowest Lada in the Cairo fleet, which only compounded our exposure to petrol poisoning. It literally chugged away, almost petering out as it reached the height of the incline passing the Citadel. I doubt very much the petrol was unleaded, which corroborates my theory that Egyptian drivers are off their nut due to lead ingestion. We arrived at our hotel in one piece, grateful for the relatively fresh air, heads pounding from the fumes. I gave him his 80 EGP, and walked sharply to the hotel entrance before he had time to whinge about his 10EGP parking fee. We had already paid over the odds, and I was doubly annoyed at not being asked if I’d have liked some "Birdie Num Nums!"

Less than 8 hours later and we were flagging down another black Lada in the morning Cairo heat. We had one final point of interest on our list, and that was the Egyptian museum. More of a haggle this time. Margaret, a Jedi master in the art of the haggle now. Literally, whatever price she said, the driver supplicated.

Margaret: "You will take us to the Egyptian museum for 20 Egyptian pounds, and pay us 10EGP Baksheesh for the trouble!" (okay a bit of a stretch)

Taxi Driver: "Yes, madam!"

Our taxi ride was surprisingly fine, and it was fascinating to watch all the hustle and bustle of Cairo down-town traffic. The only problem came to the drop off. Our taxi, could only leave us across the road from the museum. Not a problem in most other cities, just use the nearest pedestrian crossing or underpass. In Cairo, they do not exist.

Question: "Why did the Cairenne cross the road?"

Answer: "Because he/she was a nut-bag!"

It is a veritable game of Frogger attempting to cross a Cairo street. And the only way of getting across is, not by anticipating a break in the unrelenting traffic, but by waiting for some locals to make the run, use them as human shields, and be damn quick about it. Or, in the most unlikely of circumstances, a kindly Cairenne man will escort you across, without even the tiniest thought of Baksheesh! That is how we managed to cross the road over to the pink countenance that is the Egyptian museum.

My only regret for the day, is that I didn’t bring my D/SLR with me. Much of the literature about the Egyptian museum suggested that cameras could not be taken into the building, and that they needed to be left at the cloak room. Not wanting to leave my camera there, we brought out our Canon Digital Elph instead. As it happened there was no cloak room. We went through a couple of security checks, and you were simply informed that photography was strictly forbidden. Where to start in the Egyptian museum? We used the Lonely Planet as our guide-book, it had a great section on the various floors and exhibits in the museum. Basically, the bottom floor contained relics from the Old Kingdom, and the 1st floor contained exhibits from the Middle and New Kingdoms.

Egyptian Museum, Cairo

After Tutankhamun we opted to pay the extra 100EGP each, to visit the Royal Mummy room. Now, this was a bizarre experience. It was like walking through an ancient morgue come mummy zoo. While it was fascinating to see virtually all of the Pharaohs mummies whose tombs and temples we had raided in Luxor, you couldn’t help but wonder that this was not much of a happy repose. The mummies that stood out for me the most, are firstly, Tuthmosis III, for the horrible rictus that is splayed across the poor Pharaoh’s face. Next, the recent find of Queen Hatshepsut, was a stand-out, primarily because she was obese. Finally, Ramses II, and his yellowing wisps of hair, will always be memorable, particularly given how the prolific this Pharaoh was. All the mummies had their arms crossed indicating they were royal. We came out of the room torn like the tatters of a veritable mummy’s shroud. On one hand we were glad to have seen the mummies. It is incredible how well preserved they are after circa 3,000 years. On the other hand, we like all the other tourist hoards were oohing and aahing around a bunch of corpses. If we did that in a modern day cemetery you’d be jailed for desecration.  Strange, how quickly your attitudes to the dead change once they have a couple of thousand years under their cassock.

Afterwards we visited the Animal Mummy room. This was very cool. Most impressive was the 8 metre long mummified crocodile. Incredible. Everything from mummified monkeys, to dogs, and even a gazelle. The Pharaoh’s certainly liked their pets. Perhaps, the most important point it raised was to the geographic distribution of certain species of animals in Egypt during the height of the various Pharaoh dynasties. All mummied out, we headed downstairs and took in the relics of the Old Kingdom. Statue after statue, it was a mind boggling experience. We spent at least 3 hours in the museum, and you could easily spend a day. But, we had seen what we wanted to see, and so happily left, not before taking a quick bite in it’s cafeteria.

After our Egyptian museum experience we wanted to avail more of the true Cairo experience. Braving the traffic gauntlet once more we crossed the road under the shadow of some local traffic lemmings. We cut into a side street in search of a street called Orabi. It was like another world entirely. Clearly, western tourists didn’t frequent the side streets that much. One street resembled an open-air garage. Knackered banger after dodgy car lined this one particular street. The only thing distinguishing the image from a war zone, being that of the intermittent huddles of Egyptian men, discussing the finer points of Lada engineering over Turkish coffee. I jest! There were more car models from the automobile summer of 66 present in this street. A little more sobering further down the road when we came across what appeared to be a 3 year old girl, sitting by herself on a street corner. Innocent eyes matted and face pocked with dried scabs. It certainly brought home the immense poverty that exists in the city.

Running the Cairo Gauntlet, Midan Ramses, Cairo  (Note the Black Lada)

Cairo Market

Before finding Orabi we came across a  market. The locals for the most part were friendly, offering to help and calling out "Welcome" and "Beautiful" to Margaret. One such offer even extended to me taking a man back to my home country, to wed a sister if I had one. All good humour and we kept going. After passing a number of Sheesha (Egyptian water-pipe) cafes, we found Orabi and eventually the cafe that we were actually looking for. Al Tabie – Ad Dumyati was the name of the place, although we had to check with some standers by as we didn’t quite grasp written Arabic. It was essentially an Egyptian fast-food joint, and we had a fine meal of shawerma (shaved meat), falafal, unleavened bread, and a concoction of beans and olive oil. It was kind of surreal, being the only Westerners sitting amongst a bunch of locals as they took in their lunch.  I still live to write this tale, so I guess the food could not have been that bad.

After lunch, we headed up to Midan Ramses, one of the major areas of the the Northern down-town of Cairo. It’s most notable land-mark is the minaret of the Al-Fath mosque. We hung around here for a while, watching the locals. But eventually, we decided to hail a Lada antiquity once more, to avoid the toothless grin of a Turkish coffee wielding local of the putrid persuasion. So, we were back at our hotel. Hours later, at 4:20am, as the reverberating sounding off of the Muezzins consumed Cairo, we were on route to Cairo international terminal in a limousine. This was actually quite a nice car. The driver Mahmoud, spoke fantastic English, (which was embarrassing because my Arabic was rubbish) and we arrived at the airport without any story of note. It was an amazing week of sun, relaxation and Pharaoh revelations, and one I’d highly recommend. Egypt is incredible! I took this parting shot of the Cairo landscape from the air as the British Airways flight made it’s way London bound. Note the Nile in the top-left corner.

Farewell Cairo