Egypt

Like the three sides of the face of a pyramid, I discovered that there were also three sides to Egypt--three distinct experiences that moved me and affected me in distinctly different ways.

There was the ancient monument facet, where I constantly encountered things that are three to five THOUSAND years old (I'm still not sure how to comprehend that). That part of Egypt included seeing and touching the ancient pyramids, viewing the mummies of the pharaohs sealed at constant temperatures under glass coffins, and staring open-jawed at things like the treasures from King Tut's tomb--as well as King Tut himself in Luxor. There's something incomprehensible about viewing the mask of King Tut in person--an icon I grew up with and have seen in photos since I was a little girl. And seeing his mummy--indescribable. This part of Egypt was silent to me--a reverent place that smelled like a musty ancient library, an experience that made me feel like a cross between a nerdy professor and Indiana Jones.

Then there was the Egypt that real Egyptians experience, which was quite hard to see or enter on such a short trip where I was clearly a tourist. There were the slums, that came alive with fire and shouting when Egypt won the African Cup our second night there. There were the women walking home with baskets of food on their heads, slabs of bread stacked high as they walked in perfect balance down chaotic streets. There were children playing near the railroad where the sugar cane stalks bump heads in the wind, flushing the cheeks of Egypt a vibrant green. There were the skinned camel heads swaying in the breeze outside the butcher's shop, and donkeys flicking their tails as they stood on the side of the dusty road, looking bored. There were old men who squatted on their haunches squinting into the sun and staring at us as we walked or drove by.

And then there was that place in between both worlds--the place I dwelled most of the time, even though I hated it. That was the intersection between ancient Egypt and modern Egypt, the place where tourism swelled. That's where the merchants yell at you to buy their scarves, their plastic camels, their glass pyramids, anything! It's so cheap! Come on! Just 5 Egyptian pounds! This shirt is not from Taiwan, and I look like Danny DeVito, don't you think? Just come into my shop! Hassle free! I promise! That's the Egypt where you're staring at a painted wall in Queen Titi's tomb, and a guide comes up to you and wants to tell you what you're looking at so you'll pay him a little baksheesh (tips). You tell him you're not interested and walk away, annoyed that he ruined your sacred moment. You hope another tourist will come along and distract him so he'll leave you alone.

That part of Egypt is intense--you are constantly on guard, learning that you can't trust that anyone is generally interested in having a conversation with you. You may think they are for a second, but soon that friendly greeting is followed by, "Wanna buy...?" That's the part of Egypt where you have to negotiate the price of a water bottle that you purchased the night before. It's overwhelming, and ultimately I couldn't wait to leave that part of Egypt, despite the other two parts that were so beautiful.

I wish I could have gotten beyond that intersection, that middle ground that created a gap wider than the Nile, with me on one side and the people I wanted to connect on the other. I constantly found myself looking longingly into the real Egypt where the day to day life occurs, but knew I was an outsider and that they wanted it that way, really. So instead I explored the little space they cordoned off for me, standing on tip-top to catch what glimpses I could of a world I'll probably never know.