Egypt. From the Female Tourist’s Point of View.
(author’s note: this missive is wonderfully dated!)

When my friend Clay joined me in Cairo, I tried explaining that it was his good fortune. This was based on the feedback I received in the three days prior to his arrival:

Day 1:  Despite the 44-degree heat, I dressed as suggested: Austere as a nun. The forward stares were intimidating. Less so were the comments by the few men who spoke English, such as “You walk like an Egyptian Goddess”.

Day 2:  It was too hot to be dressed like a nun. This day I braved jeans, a loose T-shirt, and added dark sunglasses. Stares and comments ensue, felt less intimidated.

Day 3:  If they’re going to glare at me like this I may as well be comfortable. Back to the tank top with a copious application of sunscreen, and what I’ve come to call bitch-guard. This is an acquired skill eliminating eye-contact and smiling as these only invite unwanted attention. Women look at you like you’re the devil too. Nothing makes a woman feel more like a heathen in an ultra-conservative society than losing the support of other women.

Further into our visit (and deciding to don attire with sleeves), a flirt told me I had dropped something. I knew I hadn’t and kept walking to ignore the unwarranted attention when he said "you dropped your sense of humor”. He was right and I began to apply far less bitch-guard.

Standing on the banks of the Nile or at the Mosque of Mohammad Ali gazing at Giza thinking I’m really in Egypt…  I’d wanted to go to Egypt since I was a child and my grandmother took me to see the first world tour of King Tut’s funerary mask and treasures. Needless to say, the Egyptian Museum was an indescribable highlight of childhood dreams come true. The museum can only be described affectionately as the grandma’s attic of museums (how I watched the news in horror at the damage caused during the Arab Spring of 2011). Treasures of every size are piled practically one atop the other and the sheer volume beyond comprehension – the display of it all (or lack thereof) is fantastically unimaginable!

Egypt has had its fair share of tourist tragedies. The officials try to make visitors feel secure by showing a visible force of Tourist and Antiquities Police, or men with big guns. Or more typically, men asleep while sort of holding their big guns. Security at the Egypt Air terminal was a sham. Actually, it was non-existent and this is less than a year since September 2001. While traveling in a secure convoy to Abu Simbel with all the other tourists, one felt less safe and more like a target. A big one in a caravan of buses and minivans. As we entered the last hotel of our stay through the omnipresent metal detector at all hotels and tourist sites (4 sets at the Egyptian Museum alone), the security guard asked to look in my purse. When I inquired if I had to open my suitcase for inspection as well, he asked if I had a bomb. I said no and he responded saying he didn’t needed to look.

Traveling by boat down the Nile to Luxor and onward to Abu Simbel and Aswan were smooth sailing. Typical Nile cruises stop often and regularly at sites along the Nile. Highlights include time enjoyed on the West Bank of Luxor in the Valley of the Kings - and Queens - where we visited Nefertari’s tomb. Like finding a jewel in the sandbox it sparkled, and according to the Egyptian men, so did Nefertari. Again Clay was told he was a lucky man as I was as beautiful as Nefertari. After about half dozen such comments, Clay proclaimed himself Ramses II, a lofty title in Egypt and got some laughs from the locals. Toward the end of our journey, he tried selling me for camels. Seems 17 camels is a decent rate, in case you were wondering.

If men don’t drop at my feet when I get home I am going to feel terribly inadequate.

08/2002