From Port Said to Cairo.

28 April 2015

I wrote my name, email address, and facebook on the whiteboard on E deck, in case any of my new friends on the Florida would like to contact me. Most of my closer friends and I had already exchanged facebook.

I was already packed by morning, so I put my backpack on my back, threw my other pack on my right shoulder, and took the elevator down to disembark from the ship. Along the way, I was able to wish the people I had met a good-bye, as I walked out onto the gangway leading to Egypt.

At the dock, I was met by an official of the CMA CGM company, who would take me into town. As we walked across the shipping area, between cargo carriers, some placed so close together as to create such narrow pathways, my thoughts went to those ignorant persons who warned me about getting my head chopped off in an Arab country. The thought of being jumped at this instant crossed my mind for a split second, before I came to my senses as I realized just how stupid that sounded.

We walked until we reached his car, a Nissan Sentra if my memory serves me well, and proceeded through the port shipping area. Along the way, the gentleman pulled into a parking space and said "I must make a quick stop here. I'll be back in a moment." His moment was an hour, that seemed longer. The area was a truck shipping depot. Trucks were pulling in and out, forklifts were loading trucks with cargo carriers, workers were walking back and forth, homeless people were collecting recyclables, a group of men were nearby, all speaking Arabic.

The place was run down, but functioning. There was a small office adjacent to where I was parked that was abandoned, and in poor shape. Broken windows, broken structure, overgrown foliage, trash everywhere. I really wanted to believe Egypt was more than this. More than what is depicted in American news.

The gentleman returned, apologized for his late return, and we were off again.

As we drove through the town of Port Said, I saw a bustling town, teeming with life and excitement. Vendors were everywhere. In storefronts, in front of storefronts, in front of those who are in front of storefronts, in the streets, everywhere. They were attempting to attract buyers to their wares in a very aggressive manner. Many of their wares consisted of trinkets, hot items (hats, fans, etc.), and unusual goods. There were carts in the street, carts on the sidewalk, all full of fruits and vegetables. Cars were double and triple parked. There was only one lane to get through at times.

The buildings were storefronts at the base. Some were restaurants. The upper floors were mostly apartments. Some were offices. It was a crazy place, with a rhythm all it's own, and it was foreign to me. It took some listening to find the beat.

We triple parked, and the man said ""We must wait here for my colleague". His colleague showed up moments later, and the gentleman said "You will go with my colleague to the customs office. Please enjoy your visit to my country." A very nice phrase to give me at the start of my journey. We shook hands, and parted there.

I walked with the customs agent, through the streets that, in the car, I was not exposed to. As I walked, vendors came from all directions, and I learned my first survival lesson: Don't make eye contact, and if you do, give 'em a nod, but don't smile. A smile is an invitation to trade. Keep a serious look on your face, and keep moving. Be polite, but keep moving.

My customs agent had a look on his face like he was surprised I was not falling behind within the crowd of vendors.

When we reached the port customs office, the agent asked me to wait in a waiting room. Then he went into an office to speak to a senior customs official. The waiting room was not unexpectedly interior decorated. Wood paneling covered walls with faded Egyptian travel posters hung. Worn and scuffed tile floor. '70s style waiting room chairs. And, a few ash tray stands. The whole place wreaked of cigarettes.

After about 20 minutes, I was invited into the senior official's office. This man was dark skinned, with a large mustache, and an even larger cigar. He was dressed in a white uniform, which I thought was rather smart considering the temperature outside, as well as inside.

He requested my passport, which he stamped, and gave back to me. He was a gruff fellow of few words. I thought he may have been attempting to intimidate me, so I just looked him in the eye, and gave him a nod, and a thank you when I took my passport from him. He didn't bat an eye, but I wasn't about to stand there and have a staring contest with him when the whole country of Egypt was waiting just outside his door.

The agent and I left the customs office. As we walked, I asked him if he can direct me to a rental car place. He told me that renting a car is not recommended, even though I had already mapped out the entire drive on Google Maps when I was still home. From Port Said, through Ismallia, and into Cairo.

The agent suggested that I take a bus to Cairo. I pressed him to reveal why he did not want me to rent a car, but with a very simple attitude, he repeated that it is not recommended. We continued to walk until we reached the bus station. The agent said "Here, you can buy a ticket to Cairo for 30 Egyptian Pounds. Please enjoy your visit to my country". A reoccurring theme, and a welcome one.

I went up to the ticket window and presented my Euros, which the ticket person did not accept, although he did direct me to a currency exchange booth. I gave the attendant there 10€, and received about 90 EGP. I thought he made a mistake, but as it turns out, the EGP is undervalued against the US Dollar.

I gave the ticket person 30 EGP and he gave me a ticket. As I walked through the terminal, there was a gentleman manually checking people's bags. I didn't have to unpack my tightly packed bags too much. I walked out to the terminal and.....which bus?

The bus officials and drivers are plain clothed, but it was easy to spot who was asking for help, and who was giving it. It wasn't long before my luggage was in the hold, I was in my seat, and we were on our way.

On the 2 hour ride to Cairo, no one was seated next to me. In the seats in front of me, there was a woman in a full burka, and a younger gentleman next to her. Periodically, the woman would move herself as if she was scratching an itch. After she did this about three times, the gentleman abruptly got up and sat next to me. He whispered in Arabic, and I said "English?", to which he responded in fair English "She keeps scratching her ass!"

Of course, then the whole "Where you from?" conversation started. As it turns out, Aziz has a cousin who lives in Las Vegas. We spoke briefly, and then he fell asleep. When we reached Cairo, he bid me good-bye in Arabic, and off he went.

When I exited the bus, there was a gentleman standing right in front of me. When I moved, he moved. When I stopped, he stopped. I said "All right, What's the deal, Pal?", and he just smiled. So I went to the bus luggage hold. As soon as I identified my luggage, the gentleman grabbed one of my bags and tore ass. I went after him, thinking "Oh great, I haven't been here an hour, and already my luggage is stolen!", only to find him putting my bag into a taxi. Then I thought "Huh, good hustle!".

Once my bags and I were reunited in the back seat of his taxi, the driver said in broken English "Just moment". He left, and returned shortly with another gentleman who opened my door and the following conversation ensued:

He asked "Where you want go?"
"Cairo", was my response.
"OK, 2000"
"Dude, I ain't givin' you 2000. I don't even have 2000!"
"OK, whatever you want to give is fine"
"You mean there's no set price from here to Cairo?"
"Yes. 2000"
"Again with the 2000? I told you I ain't got 2000!"
"So, if you don't have 2000, just give me whatever you like."
"You take Euros?"
"Yes"
"Here buddy, here's a fifty. OK?"
"OK!"

He then briefly spoke to the driver in Arabic, and off we went. Later, I discovered that, by giving him a 50€ note, I had given him about 447 EGP. So, the boss made a bit less than ¼ of his original asking price. In other words, he made out pretty well.

At this point, I hadn't decided where I wanted to stay. I had seen TripAdvisor reviews on hotels in Cairo before I left home. I started browsing them again on my phone. #1 in Cairo was Kempinski. which I assumed would be the most expensive. I didn't care too much about it, however. I'm treating myself. I'm doing well. Why not?

I don't know how or why, but something made me change my mind.

"I need to go to the Ramses Hilton".
"The hotel [I can't remember] is good hotel. Very nice place", he retorted.
"I can't go to that hotel. I'm meeting someone at the Hilton!" Best I could come up with.
"The hotel [still can't remember] is good place".
"I'm sure it is, but my friend is not at your hotel. He is at the one I told you to take me to. Please?"
"OK"

The Ramses Hilton was the #3 hotel in Cairo, and since my idea was to stay in a familiar network hotel, and Kempinski was unknown to me (at the time), I decided it was a good choice.

On the way there, I couldn't help but reflect on the good hustle (speed, not con) this driver displayed to get me in his cab. When we arrived at the Hilton, I asked him for his number, so that I my call on him if I need a ride again. He wrote his number in Arabic on the back of a business card that was not his. I tipped him with 20 EGP, and he attempted to help me with my bags. When he found they were too heavy for him, I took them from him, and bid him good-bye.