Rate of Exchange

This one is culled from my journal from Egypt (which I happened to be looking through tonight, the fact that we got back almost exactly a year from today pure coincidence). Anyway, I found this gem under the title "Things I don't want to forget." But first, a little backstory is required.

So we're about 3/4 of the way through the trip and we're already quite weary of all the Egyptian vendors clamoring for bakshish (tips) and trying to sell us any number of cheap trinkets, but Dad has been looking for a t-shirt that a lot of the people on the trip had been buying, including the Aussie Dennis, Dad's new-found BFF (best friend forever in teen lingo). So he'd been shopping pretty hard, but...uh...the price was just never right.

And then it happened. Outside of one of the temples we visited, a local entrepreneur was selling the exact t-shirt that Dad wanted for the price of only five pounds (Egypt's currency is called "pounds" just like in England). Five Egyptian pounds is only about 80 cents. Oh, you should have seen the look of ecstasy that came over Dad's face at that moment. It was like he'd just been divined the answer to every single final Jeapordy question to the end of time. He thought he had the steal of the century. His countenance did not betray even a hint of guilt as he pulled out an Egyptian five pound note; in fact, his excitement was only intensified by the knowledge that our fellow travelers had paid over 10x as much for theirs. You could tell he was already forming a triumphant narrative in his mind to tell at the buffet line that night, especially to Dennis, who had been consistently one-upping us with all his tales of adventure.

But then the unthinkable happened. As the vendor saw that the five pounds Dad had pulled out of his man-purse was, in fact, the Egyptian variety, he shook his head violently and exclaimed: "No no no no no. Five ENGLISH pounds" (over $10 American). Such a switch of emotion has probably never been witnessed before or after that moment in the whole history of human civilization. Dad's head flushed harder than an industrial toilet as he shoved the five pounds back into his extra-security traveler's man-purse and then--with a gesture that, in any language, could only mean "this relationship is over"--he put the man-purse back under an extra layer of security, his Eddie Bauer traveler's polo, made with super sweat-wicking material.

But the local gentleman would not be so easily dissuaded from his sales venture. Wherever Dad went, the persistent gentleman followed right on his hip, offering final price after final price. Dad tried to say "No thanks" in the most disingenuous way possible, but that didn't work. He tried to ignore him, but that didn't work. He tried to pretend that he was browsing at a different store front, but that only increased the attention he was receiving from the local vendors. Dad sensed that his only refuge would be the bus. But as he made his way back to the parking area, he was horrified to see that a long line had already formed, and he would now have to either cut in line or showcase his negotiating tactics in front of our entire party.

Clearly, there was really only one choice here, the man's choice. So as he stood in line, his head still imitating a ripe Roma, he kept offering the man refusals, only now his tone had changed from deeply patronizing to patronizing with an awkward attempt at being humorous as he realized that everyone in our group was staring at him. Not wanting to come off as a cold, cheap tourist or as being extremely naive (in fact, our tour guide had warned us all that day of the "switcheroo" ploy as a staple in the Egyptian vendor's repertoire), Dad finally relented and bought the t-shirt, which our fellow travelers then forced him to display.

At this point readers, your souls are no doubt already deeply saddened by these tragic events. That is why with a heavy heart I must warn you that the worst is yet to come.

Tim and I spent the whole ride back to the ship reassuring Dad that he had made a good buy, that all was not lost. That he could still show his face in Cadillac upon our return. We stroked his ego like one would a trembling house cat. But then we got back to the ship and Dad finally had time to thoroughly examine his newly acquired t-shirt. As I saw his face crinkle with dismay I knew something was wrong. He called me over to him and asked if he could see the identical t-shirt that I had also bought that day.

With all the foreboding in the world I complied. He noticed right off that his was made of an inferior fabric. This realization was a severe blow, causing him to speak words that are not fit to repeat here.

But it was not the knock-out punch. Oh no. This came when I noticed his face reach a level of despair more dramatic than Caesar's looking into the eyes of Brutus. I could see his mind race back to that eager Egyptian vendor thinking, "Et tu, Abu?" I asked him what was wrong and, now rendered speechless by the shock, he simply turned the t-shirt around to reveal a long brown streak down the front of it that made it look like the salesman had just finished with it in the bathroom before selling it to Dad.

It is at this moment when Dad exclaimed this week's Quote of the Week. As he defiantly threw the t-shirt down on his bed he yelled "I'm not giving one more dime to those bastards!!!" Of course, only a day later he would be persuaded to buy this:

Egypt

May 2006.

No other place I've visited has been everything I expected it to be and a place I couldn't have ever imagined all at once. My first impression of Egypt was that it was a country of contradictions--women completely veiled in the same room as sensuous belly dancers was one thing that gave me this impression--but I've since come to the conclusion that the sharp contrast of Egypt's many images work together to make a powerful, mystical, brilliant, and (at times) dark bouquet.

Egypt's power and mysticism stems through its giant and elaborate temples. The ruins of Ancient Egypt put any leftover vestiges of Rome scattered through Europe to shame. Many of the Egyptian temples are still in very good condition, some with enough paint left on the walls even after 3,000-5,000 years that it is easy to imagine how breathtaking these structures must have been when they were just built and covered with vibrant colors and adorned with gold. From Karnak Temple in Luxor, which was once considered one of the wonders of the world, all the way down the Nile to the magnificent temples of Ramses II and his beloved wife Nefertari in Abu Simbel near the border of Sudan the riches, strength, pride, and spirituality of the Ancient Egyptians is preserved in stunning quality.

Of course, these qualities are well encompassed in the Great Pyramids of Giza. The amazing statistics about these pyramids are well documented and beyond impressive in their own right. However, knowledge of these statistics is not necessary to appreciate the Great Pyramids. Numbers, no matter how large, are the last thing to enter the mind when you stand at the base of these massive structures and your head doesn't even reach the height of the first block. All you can do is look up and attempt to pick out the limestone pinnacle from the glaze of the heavy sun and try not to feel small. The Pyramids are the symbol of Egypt not only because of their iconic status, but because of their inherent balance and symmetry.

Egypt's images provide an equilibrium between ancient and modern, wealth and poverty, pride and humility, power and weakness, religion and politics, danger and safety, and tomb and cradle. Herds of sheep bed down on the concrete pastures of downtown Cairo (population 21,000,000) below tall office buildings. Mudbrick houses of rural Upper Egypt are devoid of roofs but are equipped with satellite dishes. Donkey powered carts compete for road space in downtown Cairo with fancy BMWs and cars that look glued together (where the only traffic rule seems to be that the biggest vehicle gets the right of way). Five star hotels and elaborate embassies are on the same block as hovels and shanties. Bustling city centers are minutes away from rural populations that haven't changed in thousands of years. Lovers on the banks of the Nile in Cairo, reminiscent of the Seine in Paris, sit next to police outfitted with automatic rifles. Giant cruise boats power down the Nile leaving dug out canoes and primitive sailboats in their wakes. The rich, tropical landscape of the Nile Valley is a thin strip through a vast and barren desert. The hectic pace and clamors for bakshish of the markets and bazaars don't seem to affect the relaxation of men sitting in nearby cafes dressed in galabeas and smoking hookah pipes. Ancient temples dedicated to any one of numerous deities sit next to beautiful mosques, each with their respective share of obelisks and minarets. Giant statues of pharaohs stand next to giant pictures of Hosni Mubarak. A constant police presence manages to stay separate from an endearing local hospitality. The Valley of the Kings, the chosen burial place of many great Pharaohs, rests on the outskirts of the Nile Valley, the ancient womb of humanity. The wealth, power, and progressiveness of the Ancient Egyptians is resurrected despite the obvious oppression faced by many modern Egyptians.

The last image I mentioned represents the dark side of the bouquet. On my second to last full day in Egypt I witnessed riot police and military personnel beating protesters and journalists with billy clubs and rifles. Some people were thrown into paddy wagons destined to a fate unknown. Although Egypt is a "democracy," backed by billions of dollars annually by the U.S.A., their president, Hosni Mubarak, has been in power for decades and in the last "election" received something like 99% of the "vote." A couple of judges had the temerity to suggest that the elections may have been rigged and as a result were on trial for criticizing the government. The protests were in support of the judges. Freedom of the press, freedom of speech, and free elections apparently aren't a big component of Egyptian democracy. Despite these conditions, the Egyptian people are as warm as the climate in which they live (the summer temps in some parts of Egypt reach 130 degrees), and the experience of visiting this ancient and rich place can be as new, refreshing, and mysterious as the lotus flowers that line the banks of the River Nile.