The Young Jeremiah Chronicles - Istanbul to Cairo Part 6
Fri, 10 Sept 2004 15:39:38 +0000
Subject: Penultimation and Jubilation
Hello from sunny Cairo
Yep, still in Cairo, Its as busy and bustly as ever. Good city, again I'll say its nothing like I imagined it, those damn Egyptians are far too independent to exits merely as an old fashioned holiday destination for the pleasure of us posh Europeans. Nope, its not like 1920 here, why did I think it would be like that? I don't think I did consciously, but I did on some level. Its just like any other big big capital, brassy, shiny and busy. I like Cairo though, its a good city to pick as a final destination.
The last two days have basically involved us meandering around, seeing what kind of city Cairo is, trying to grasp that whole Cairene feel.
Yesterday we awoke with the intention of heading off to Alexandria, but circumstances conspired against that, and we wandered our way about Cairo instead. We wandered down the high glitzy streets, through each perfect square, deciding to eat in Da Mario, the restaurant we had skilfully avoided accidentally the day before. It turned out to be just as expensive as the Hilton, but the food was good. We wandered through the Americanised Hilton mall, indulging in western life.
We strolled down the hall past the two Hilton hotels, with the intention of catching a public ferry all the way up river to the Old City, turned out the boat only went as far as the university, so we did that. We passed through the channels between the Nile and its Islands, under bridges, past great vents in the river, sticking out like elaborate white fountains in the middle of the river. The boat lay low, with many chairs, and an exposed 'bridge' at the top, which was basically an old fashioned steering wheel and throttle control just stuck under the windows at the front of the boat.
At the university stop, we wandered past Ice rinks, sporting facilities for contractors, and gyms with their own papyrus museums until we hit a bridge to take us back across the Nile via the most colonial of its Islands. Big lion statues, proud in the waning sun stood in pairs at either end of the bridges, which we crossed, their lengths shaking under the never-ending thundering traffic. The Cairene skyline stretched before and behind like New York, Chicago, and London combined.
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| The Nile at Cairo |
We took a metro then to the old Coptic city, to see what lay there. The train was jam packed. At least the men's car was, the women's was probably quite serene. Elbows stuck into faces, and people continued backing in others holding firm, until we reached our stop, Eoin dashed out, but the way he took was blocked swiftly as I followed. The doors began to close, as they were but half a foot across I reached them, tucking my guide quickly beneath my arm, and grabbed hold of them. But these doors were quite unlike the electronic doors we have at home, these doors would not merely sigh at the first sign of resistance and reopen, instead they sought to crush resistance with mechanical strength. I would not give in to that, I pushed with all my might, managing to stall the doors, they kept pushing, my face contorted, I strained, my fellow carriage occupants length multiple hands, grabbing and pulling with all their weight, just enough, I slipped through the re closing crack, laughing, the train moving off beneath me. Good fun, exhilarating.
We wandered around Coptic Cairo. Everything was closed, nothing to do; we did see local life, Cairenes with huge wooden carts with tiny pram wheels, men on bikes with a load of bread big enough for its own van, perched upon their heads. Women walking along serenely shopping bags on their heads. Policemen leaning on kalashnikovs in the porch's of tea shacks, supping tea; a group of men dismantling numerous cars; lots of work, lots of welcomes; lots of strange kids dancing and making bird sounds. One of the poorer parts of town, shanty towns half visible through slits in the walls at one side of the road, we just walked and watched. We got the metro back again.
That night we had some more Kushari, the food we discovered in Luxor, basically its lots of pasta, rice, chickpeas, and fried onions, its a nice, very quick and very cheap snack.
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| The Egyptian museum at Cairo |
The next day, today, we tackled the famous, and enormous Egyptian Museum A big red building in the colonial style, it sits in a garden of palms at the end of Tahrir square. Its squat dome sitting back proudly over its regal entrance. Inside lay sarcophagi galore, thousands of models of Egyptian houses, boats, and people, and the real jewel in Egypt' heritage, the treasures of Tutankhamen.
We've all seen pictures of the glittering headdresses the fantastic sarcophagus and the amazing wealth of the young Pharaoh but nothing can prepare you for actually seeing these treasures in the 'flesh' . The Kid's burial goods take up almost an entire floor: beds galore, statues of gold, huge gold gilded guardians; lapis lazuli blue and gold adorn every surface; game boards, wig boxes, crooks, fly whisks, Russian doll like boxes within boxes within boxes within the tomb, filling it with golden onion layers, at the heart of which lay Tutankhamen. His sarcophagus is amazing, the colours, the artistry, the magnificence; other crazy objects with him include his ceremonial gold tail, his gold toes, fingers, and sandals. Its all pretty overwhelming In fact the whole museum is.
Its estimated that if one gave over one minute for each artefact in the Egyptian museum it would take nine months to see them all. I don't doubt it. We were in there for 4 hours and by the end, we had seen so much as to be overloaded. Artefacts are basically just thrown all over the huge building, huge granite statues sit next to glass cabinets full of weird Egyptian wigs; half the stuff isn't labelled and the place hasn't been reorganised in 100 years, although I can see why, such a task would be indeed formidable.
Despite all this, or probably because of it, the place has an old world charm all its own, it is eccentric in its ways, like an old professor slightly lost in his own creation. Walking through the Egyptian museum can at times be frustrating, with no dating on the top floor, and little direction save one you invent yourself, yet at times it can feel like pushing through a dusty warehouse, and blowing back the dust on some amazing treasure you never know on what you might stumble.
Although we were completely wrecked by the end of it.
We finished at the museum with a look at the mummies of the famous kings. These powerful men, like gods they were, now sit in glass cases to be gawked at by tourists, while their goods have been stolen for either academic curiosity, or melted down to enrich their post mortem enemies. The Irony definitely wasn't lost on me as I leant over and peered down at once noble faces, some still retain their hair, others still have false eyes staring spookily into space. Some quite disturbing, others comical. It all struck me as a little unjust. By learning about their beliefs we have shown our complete contempt for them.
young Jeremiah here, grasping for a point. I don't think he ever managed to get a firm hold on it.
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| Me and Eoin after the Museum |
We left and wandered by the hilariously named 'American university in Cairo' I found the 'in' unneeded, and fairly amusing, Eoin couldn't see what I was laughing at. We got more Kushari, and came here to send our emails. Only three days left on the clock (not including the rest of today) and only one email for ye folks to read. The adventures almost over.
What will happen next? Will disaster strike at the last moment? Will Jerry and Eoin be flung into a temporal casualty loop and forced to live the holiday over and over again, like that annoying episode of star trek, and groundhog day? Will all these kushari have an ill effect on the boys? Will the millennium spire succeed in its mission to spike aliens? Will hapy the monkey win a second term as president of the USA???!!?!
Some of these questions and more may or may not be answered in the
NEXT Last AND FINAL EMAIL
(Please note, that this is not a guarantee and it may be quite possible that emails will follow the so-called last email. thank you)
Yours penultimately
Jerry O Connor
Sun, 12 Sep 2004 13:24:48 +0000
Subject: The boulders losing momentum
AHHHHH
Just spent the last 45 minutes writing a kick ass email that woulda gotten me a pulitzer prize, but the stupid mouse has a stupid button on the side that somehow deleted the whole bloody thing, so this'll be brief
All Right, DEEP BREATH
Today is the last day on this marvellous middle eastern adventure, we fly out at 3am tonight, which is really tomorrow morning, so technically its the second last day, but is 3 hours a day? I don't think so, and anyway ye all know I'm not that technical a guy.
Okay, two days, two days, two days
Wow don't you love deja vu? NOT WHEN YOU'RE TYPING A WHOLE EMAIL AGAIN
Anyway, yesterday we switched hotels, trying to convince the staff of the minerva (our original cairene hotel, and very good) that our flight was earlier then it actually is we almost tripped over our own tongues swollen as they were with the whitest of lies. We moved to the Windsor hotel, ex-swiss hotel, ex- british colonial officers club, pip pip. Micheal Palin stayed there when filming around the world in eighty days, his photos in the lobby, he wrote 'thanks for the wonderful stay' on it, which is of course what everyone says when they don't know what to write in a guestbook. Its our first middle class hotel of the trip, and its our treat for our final night. Its got an old lever operated lift, with its own driver, who sits sullenly about when people think better and use the stairs, its also got a switchboard at least 50 years old, and a good bar. Hospital like beds though (with wheels)
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| Eoin in our room at the Windsor hotel |
The main thing we did yesterday, (besides the American university in Cairo which I am NOT writing about again) was visit Islamic Cairo around Khan al khanili. Yes indeed that is a word none of ye will remember.
After our taxi drive to the place over the city, due to the very high motorway that weaved between, office blocks and minarets. We arrived, hmmm, originally I had a pretty snazzy metaphor for the sight of the market alleys, what was it? I think it was, ' from the alleys on the far side of the junction people bled, not unlike the way honey bleeds from a smashed hive' Something like that. Anyway we entered the tourist bazaar, which was all colourful, loud, and all that. It had everything, and its construction of alleys was arranged like the lines in a bowl of spaghetti. Stupidly. The streets were thin and narrow, few let daylight in, yet despite the unlikelihood of us finding anything, or anyone that may help in that vast confusing place, we somehow managed it.
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| In the markets of the old city |
On the longest street of the tourist bazaar where gruff men grabbed your arm and people tried to sell you 'I Love camel' t-shirts, colour spread on forever, the sides of the streets carried on to their vanishing point, somewhere small and far off, rubber dinghies hung overhead and tourists pressed by, naturally amazed frightened and confused.
Here appeared at our sides an old gentlemen in a suit of green. He appeared without us ever registering the exact moment, he was just there. Yet it wasn't sudden, more like a wisp of smoke, not sudden or abrasive. He told us of the real Cairo the tourists see, and told us he would show us 'gentlemen' this semi-mythical place for fun, not for a fee. Always susceptible to flattery we of course accepted, we didn't have far to go.
He led us to an alley, which at first glance appeared to go nowhere, however it led to real Cairo, a land of more muted acceptable colours, far from luminous pinks, it was an earthy place with exotic smells that made me sneeze. He showed us spices, and told us secrets I never thought I'd care to learn, but I did, and I cared. This was the Cairo of my dreams, and we followed the stiff backed old man, hands clasped regally behind his back, as he showed us a handful of its secrets.
Spices, textiles, and oils, the wonders of the orient. He showed us all three. The third, oils, in his shop, 'soliman and son' for that was his name. Myyr, amber, musqe, and five secrets. Not those expensive Paris perfumes, but their source. He told us of perfume manufacture, and how oil was much better, he spread it on our hands and arms, and kept on talking in his sometimes gruff, sometimes stately tones. In the end we had to buy, and we were glad of it. Either he was a very genuine old man, or he was the greatest con man we've seen so far on our adventure. His hands shook frightfully, I favoured the former.
When asked he led us to the best place in Cairo to buy a gallibiyyeh, the long one piece robe worn by many men in the middle east, Eoin got a white city style one, me a slate grey model of the country cut. Good purchases. Afterwards he led us to the exit of this hidden realm, he stood in the quiet alleyway and said his goodbyes, disappearing from our lives just as unobtrusively as he had entered it. Thanks to him we have smelt and seen the real Cairo. We tried to re-enter once we had left, but it was difficult, we succeeded, but it was like jumping through the looking glass and back in time.
We left through the imploding tourist market, walking to its end, here hundreds tried to enter, shop fronts, and carts on their backs or before them, while hundreds at the same time tried to leave, all through a narrow street. Sometimes one couldn't move, yet sometimes one couldn't help but do so due to the press and tide around you in the swell of faces.
We got back to the Windsor and ate more kushari in our favourite restaurant, watched a movie and bed.
Again I was restless in my sleep. This time Eoin was awoken by a tremendous whack, me getting out of bed into the narrow slot between our two beds, and thumping into the bedend. Then I stood, searching the face of the wardrobe, when asked what I was looking for I replied 'I'm looking for my clothes on top of the wardrobe' At this point my dreams involved the temple of luxor superimposed on the image of the face of the wardrobe. Eoin fell back to sleep.
He was woken by another loud wham, this time, my sleeping form, deciding perhaps I should follow convention and sleep while prone, was walking into the side of Eoins bed, flailing about. As Eoins bed was the first bed I had impacted with, I assumed it was mine, and started to get in, Eoin was understandably taken aback. At this point I woke up. I was immediately aware of my position, that is, not in my bed, however, weather is was the shock of finding someone in 'my' bed that had woken me up, or the fact that Eoin had knocked me away I'm not sure, Apparently when Eoin knocked me back, I flailed backwards, almost doubling over, he thought I was going to fall backwards. For the part of my conscious self, all I recall is utter shock and confusion as to who this person was in 'my' bed. However I soon recovered, apologised and went back to sleep. I'm surprised Eoin got any sleep. Apparently throughout the holiday I've been screaming, muttering, talking, and trying to steal his pillow, all of which I have no memory. Scary.
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| Saqquara |
Anyway, today, as befitting the last day of a holiday where we were consistently called on to get up WAY too early, we had to get up WAY too early. At 6'45 we rose, as we had a taxi booked to Saqquara and the step pyramid at djoser. We swept through and out of Cairo, and left the fertile Wadi for desert once more, but only just, for saqquarra sits almost atop luscious palms. Whereas the great pyramids are made of millions of steps, Djoser is just 6, though 6 really really big ones. Its looks like its melting in the hot desert sun, with its trickling sand blunting sharp edged crumbling masonry. In the distance on the far off dunes lie failed prototype pyramids, like sand castles with too little water. Djoser was the first Pyramid built that was actually a success, built by the great genius architect Imhotep, now famous as the decomposing fly spitting bad guy in the Mummy. Architects eh?
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| Eoin and myself at the step pyramid of Djoser |
Anyway, we looked around, forced to have a guide to tip, as he had the keys, and generally just chilled. In the distance, partly visible through the cairene smog, the great pyramids could just be made out, above flew Hercules military transports and jumbo jets, the present is never far away.
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| Giza in the distance |
Went back to our hotels, and got more Kushari in our favourite restaurant, then here to annoy ye people once again.
Phew, the whole email, again, I'm too good to ye people ye know that? Else I'm a masochist.
Oh yeah, this isn't the last email, so don't get all teary just yet, Eoins writing another in Prague, tomorrow so so will I. Only 10 and a half hours to our flights!!!!!
Might watch the match if we can (god I've gotten all patrioticly sporty over here) Eat, and maybe go to the cinema, bar that, its so long to the middle east,
Don't worry the next email'll be much more nostalgic and corny (bring yer sick bags)
Salaam for the very last time
(next time it;ll be in English)
Jerry
Mon, 13 Sep 2004 13:47:46 +0000
Subject: The end....The Conlusion...The Climax....
Well this is it, the last Email, we're in Prague on our way home, and well, I guess its time to conclude things. Think its time to give ye're ole pupils a break from all this furious adventuring. I mean my god, if you put all these emails together you'd probably have the makings of a badly selling book. But anyway, I digress, what's happened since yesterday? I'm sure ye're all dying to know. (yeah right)
After the email in Cairo yesterday, we went searching for an Irish bar in which to watch the match, the closest thing we found was in the mall of the Nile Hilton. It was a small place, open to the mall proper, with Guinness posters plastered on the wall and a tuxedo dressed bartender behind his well enough stocked bar. Sitting on one of the stools, the sole occupant of this cafe like bar was one large Irish man with a red face, he wore Hawaii fatigues and a large golden ankh (Egyptian cross) around his neck.
Anyway, to cut a long story short (my god thats a first) it turned out they weren't showing it, neither was anywhere else in Cairo for that matter, so we were left to follow liveish reports on Rte.ie. That is until we went to the cinema to see collateral, with tom cruise, which was really rather good. Anyway, when we left the score was 0-9 to 0-9 so it was all tense and all that, but anyway, we found out we trounced Kilkenny pretty well, and there was much rejoicing.
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| Waiting in the hotel lounge (the ex British officers club in Cairo) for our taxi to the airport, |
Anyway, we stayed up in the hotel lounge until it was time for our taxi to the airport, (midnight) which was driven by the same guy who had driven us to Saqquara at 8 o clock that morning. The poor guy had to begin and end his day bringing us somewhere, wouldn't wish that on anyone.
Soon we got to the airport, which was all shiny and glitzy as they had just done polishing the floors, and we sat and waited for check in to open up. It did, after about an hour (1am). Cunningly we joined what we thought was the quickest queue, but it turned out to be slower then one could believe, the guy at the top would take each persons ticket and passport and just stare at the numbers and pictures for an age, before actually doing anything at his computer, and then his typing would be slow methodical and laid back.
It took a long time.
Afterwards we wandered through customs, our passports checked again, we found seats to wait until boarding. Then as we entered the gate we were x rayed and passport checked, yet again, this time, the x ray mistook paperclips in my bag for bullets. Which I had to explain away.
We waited for another while. Until about 10 to three, when it was announced which seats would be getting which buses, and then we queued up, another slow, long queue, why You ask? Why because they had to read over our tickets, and check our passports one more time, the fact that you couldn't have gotten into the room without first having your passport checked seemed to escape them. Also matters were doubly slowed by the fact that the guy handling this was the same 'mister slow' from the check in counter. Laboriously he scanned our tickets... God we were tired and grumpy, we were worse when the bus was stalled yet again to wait for some business guy who was late.
We boarded the 737, I waved to an imaginary audience as I mounted the steps and entered, meeting the captain, who throughout the flight was completely impossible to understand. And found our seats, both of us had aisle seats this time, and when the plane finally took off we were ready to fall to sleep. But as we all know, as is required on every flight, even if it is almost 4 in the morning, the passengers have to be fed, we were. And then we slumped into sleep.
We landed in Prague as the sun rose, got our transfer tickets, and slept in the transfer lounge, spread across numerous uncomfortable seats. Eventually, at about 11 30 we rose , ate, and headed back into Prague, throughout the flight, and the day I have been wearing my Arab robes, the gallibeyyeh, I have never gotten so many stares in my life. In Cairo everyone joked and laughed, here they stare, sometimes in confusion, but a worrying amount of times in fear and hate, I smile back gamely, big curly head on me, some just shake their heads and walk on, Some keep staring, craning their neck around as I walk past. Rude people. They give me a wide berth in case my cloak is covered in anthrax or something. Ridiculous prejudice and just plain ridiculous.
Anyway, we headed into town, the same route as before, via bus and subway, only now its six weeks later, and we're a little hairier and a little browner, we wandered familiar routes, took familiar photos. We took a funicular railway up a hill to a mini Eiffel tower viewing post to tremendous views. We also explored with great laughs a mirror labyrinth. Its pretty odd to see yourself standing looking in a different direction at the end of a long corridor standing next to yourself. Hmmm.
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| Tremendous views |
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| Mirror maze on the hill |
One thing we've noticed is how quiet it is here compared to the middle east, gone is the excessive liveliness of the streets, gone are the constant honking of horns, that blare every second of the day in a normal middle eastern city. We had become so used to it by Cairo that it hadn't really stood out, now it does in retrospect.
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| Eoin and I in Prague |
I'm in an email cafe in Prague, leaving again for airport at 4, its 3'15 now, our flights are at seven. The holiday is very swiftly reaching its conclusion, and holiday conclusions are by their very nature anticlimactic.
We've seen so much In our journey from Istanbul to Cairo, that its impossible to take it all in. I can't wait to stop and take a breather, but I've no idea what that will really be like. We've seen what many would describe as the greatest wonders of our world, our civilisations that have stretched back through a small fraction of time. Haggia Sofia, Goreme, Ephesus,The Temple of Artemis, Antioch, Apemea, Palmyra, Jerash, Petra, Luxor, Abu Simbel, the Pyramids, the sphinx, and much more, so much so that the names take on the same significance as all those names in the acknowledgements section at the start of a book, the eye tends to skip over them. I think we've seen too much. Natural wonders, such as the desert, and Wadi Rumm are different, yet while Wadi Rumm always astounds, the desert can dry the mind of sensation, and punish the eyes for staring. Desolation is only something to be visited, not exposed to over too long a period. The Desert is fantastic in its myriad of moods, yet always deadly, one doesn't get the same sense of foreboding from a stretch of grass then one does from a vast tract of sand. It could kill you if you're not careful.
The lands, the images will always remain etched in my mind, but what will ever remain etched on my heart, never to be forgotten, are the peoples, the cultures, and the friends we've met on this journey. Not just our fellow travellers, of which they were many, who probably saved our lost sanities more then we might admit, but more so, the people of these lands. What stands out to me now, at the summit of the mountain, are the peoples of Syria and Jordan. These people are like no other, their hospitality was tild to be legendary, and well it should be; these people were friends we were sorry to say goodbye to, and faces we'd eagerly see again, Aoda, Abdullah, Ibrahim, all those Mamheds, Solem, Omar, Talal, Solimans, all, all these good people who went out of their way, out of their general field of play to befriend us and welcome us. And while the phrase 'welcome' may have become overused to the point of farce it is my opinion that these countries are the only places apart from my homeland, where I feel most welcome, even more so then Ireland on many many occasions.
We've also learned so much about the cultures, taboos and loves of these people, their deep love of Chai (tea) with an ungodly amount of sugar their wonderful sense of humour of which we've both been victim numerous times, and their marvellous sense of fellowship. They are at times unassuming, at times pushy in their hospitality, but they seem at all times genuine.
Its impossible to sum up this 'holiday thing' Hell it was Eoin's idea to try, but he is blessed with an ability for brevity that I seem to have missed utterly. I won't be able to look at the thing properly, until I look at the whole thing as a body from a distance. Undoubtedly I've grown and changed from the experience, but into what and why, I've no idea.
It was fun, it was frustrating, it opened my eyes to the stark realities of things we are so keen to debate on in Idle bar room talk, yet never could summon the nerve, or even the compulsion to do anything about. I'm glad to be going home, that much is certain, yet I also feel odd about this conclusion. Perhaps it has become such a part of our culture that concluding moments are innate and real, while in reality they don't really exist at all, except perhaps in death, but then that too is a conclusion only in the smallest individual sense.
Well anyway, THIS is a conclusion, it may be a bad one, it may be a mixed jumble of pseudo sociological thoughts, but that's how my prose has always been, and that's how it will continue. This is a conclusion. This is the end
I'm not gonna say farewell, since I'm actually saying hello to ye all again, as I'm back in Ireland
See ye inevitably
Jerry
FULL STOP
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| Eoin and I arriving back in Cork airport 13/9/2004 |
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