Around the World: Survival Instinct

February 25, 1992

This post is dedicated to the all the women who are survivors of violence.

The Tower of Cairo has stunning views of the city and the Nile. Sabina and I are off in search of this popular city landmark.

It's easy enough to find the Nile, but finding a bridge to get to the other side, where the tower is located, is another matter. I ask a young man walking the opposite way if we are headed the right way to the nearest bridge.

Photo courtesy of PlanetWare

"You are going to the Tower of Cairo? They will charge you more because you are tourist. Let me buy your entry ticket. I am Egyptian, I will get it for much less than you pay."

We both decline, after all, he was going the opposite way. "Please," he insists, "I am a student. I would love to show you something in Cairo."

Along the way, he tells us the Tower of Cairo is a popular spot for marriage proposals, with it's romantic view of the city. He pays for our tickets and will not accept our money to repay him. He accompanies us to the viewing area at the top where there is a restaurant. We offer to buy him a drink to repay his generosity.

Sabina and I sit opposite each other in a booth, and the man sits beside me. He wants to know where we are from and what of Cairo we have seen. He reaches past me for the salt on the table. As he pulls it back, his arm brushes over my chest.

I give him a disapproving look. "Sorry, so sorry," he says. He is still saying sorry as he tries to put the salt back. I put one arm between my chest and his arm, and take the salt from him with the other, successfully blocking his second attempt.

The view from the Tower of Cairo.

Sabina is looking at the map. "Oh, you have to see this place," he says pretending to point to the map. He reaches too far, and brushes his hand over her chest. "Sorry, so sorry." She gives him a forgiving smile. She looks at me concerned and understands my 'what-the-hell' expression. This guy wants something he's just not going to get.

"Well, it has been a pleasure meeting you," Sabina says, packing up the map.

I stand and encourage him to move so I can get out of the booth. "Thanks for getting us Egyptian prices, but we really have to be going."

He rides the elevator down with us. At the entrance, we say goodbye and abruptly walk away.

Walking at a brisk pace, we discuss what a creep he was and give him a few choice nicknames. I check behind us and discover we are being followed. I tell Sabina, suggesting we stop and pretend to look distracted.  Perhaps he is just going the same direction we are, but we agree it would be best to give him the chance to get ahead of us.

That plan backfires.  He walks right up to us, greeting us with, "Sorry, so sorry."  We make it quite clear that he is not welcome and should leave. He approaches Sabina, still apologizing, and puts both hands on each of her breasts. Sabina pushes him off and turns her back to him.  She is visibly shaken, so I position myself between the creep and Sabina and brace myself to push him away hard. I'm telling him to get the f#ck lost when, suddenly, his hand is between my legs.

If I had time to make a fist, I fear I would have seriously hurt him. What happened next was completely automatic. My arm forced my cupped hand into the side of his head with such force, it knocked him to the ground several feet away from me. When the vision enclosing rage cleared, I see he is trying to get back up on his feet.

I am, by no means, a fighter. I have been described as a toothpick in over sized clothing, hardly a sight that would put fear in anyone. Here I am the one standing over this despicable low-life. My reaction is fueled by fear, anger and disgust. If he gets up on his feet, anything can happen, none of it good for me.

"Sorry, so sorry," he pleads, still trying to get up. Instinctively, I keep stepping toward him, knowing that with every step I take, he scrambles to crawl backward. At least it keeps him off balance and I can only hope it's making him nervous.

I don't think I said anything to him while he struggled on the ground. I do remember picturing myself on the 50 yard line, quite prepared to punt his testicles for a field goal. Because I prefer he just goes away rather than engage him in a physical contest, I give him the opportunity to avoid the three-point-pain he's due. "If you get up," I hear my voice warn him sternly, "you better run."

And, fortunately for everyone, that's exactly what he did.

After calming down and making sure the idiot is gone, Sabina and I continue toward our hotel. After a beer, we plot a sufficiently miserable and torturous demise for the creep. Half way through the second, we are able to find some of the situation almost humorous, especially how he will explain the bruises my fingertips have embedded on the side of his face.

Regardless of the methods we use to comfort ourselves, we cannot deny that we are incredibly fortunate to have fared as well as we did.  That sobering thought is reason enough to order another round.

• ¤ •

"I think you have to know who you are, get to know the monster that lives in your soul, dive deep into your soul and explore it."
~Tori Amos

In 1994, the DC Rape Crisis Center awarded Tori Amos a Visionary award for the song, "Me and a Gun" and the co-creation of RAINN. Click here for an international directory of rape crisis support resources.

Around the World: Pyramids of Giza

February 23, 1992

The taxi ride from the hotel to the edge of the Sahara desert is short.  A road is all that separates the pyramids of Giza and the ancient tombs of the Pharaohs from the modern (by comparison) city of Cairo.

Arial view of Cairo and the The Pyramids of Giza.

The entrance fee is tripled for tourists, but students get a discount which makes the price just slightly more than the Egyptian fee.  I show my Ontario driver's licence to the cashier and tell her it's my student identification.  She doesn't ask any questions and charges me the student amount.

The big black shawl I bought yesterday is very handy.  The temperature rapidly fluctuates between cool and hot, depending on the direction and intensity of the wind.  Anything stronger than a gentle breeze kicks up the fine desert sand and whips it at my eyes.  It feels like stinging needles on my skin.  Wrapping myself up in the shawl is my only shelter.

It's difficult to imagine the sheer grandeur and size of these pyramids until you find yourself standing next to one.  Each square stone is almost the height of me, all laid without the aid of heavy machinery and with meticulous precision.  It's only then that one can even attempt to appreciate the effort and ingenuity required to build this enormous structure .

Pyramid vs. Man (on a camel)
Photo by Tinou Bao

There are three main pyramids at Giza.  The Great Pyramid is the tomb of the great Egyptian king, Khufu, and the tallest pyramid ever constructed.  Built on a base that covers 13 acres, Khufu once stood 488 ft tall. The erosion of the limestone covering has shrunk Khufu to a height just over 455 ft.  Built around 2560 BC, Khufu held the distinction as the tallest building on Earth until the French built the Eiffel Tower in 1889.

The middle pyramid is the tomb of Khufu's son, Khafre.  Standing 446 ft tall, it is the only one of the three that still bears some of the polished limestone outer casing at it's top that once covered all the pyramids.  There is a steep, narrow passage, about one meter in height and width, that allows visitors to crawl into the chamber under the pyramid.  The small space did nothing to help my claustrophobia, especially knowing that once inside, I was committed to completing the trip to the bottom.  The end of the tunnel opens into a larger passageway and into several empty chambers.

Passage into Khafre's tomb.
Photo by Ashish Agarwal

Khafre's son, Menkaure, built the smallest pyramid, standing only 215 ft tall.  In front of Mehkaure are three smaller pyramids, called the Pyramids of the Queens. 

From the right: Khufu, Khafra and Menkaure with the
Pyramids of the Queens in front.
Photo courtesy of Wikipedia, Creative Commons.

The Great Sphinx of Giza is a massive monolith depicting a mythical creature with a lion's body and a human head. Situated on the west side of Khafre, it seems to guard the tombs of the Pharaohs, although the purpose of its construction remains a subject of controversy.  Made of soft sandstone, the Sphinx likely would not have survived the harsh desert climate had it not been buried in sand for most of its existence.  Restoration work is constant and despite careful efforts, often results in further damage.

The Sphinx and Khafre
Photo by Mrs Logic

After taking in the incredible experience of the Giza Pyramids, another taxi returns us back to the hotel. Along the way, I made note of the Arabic numbers as they scrolled by on the meter. Perhaps I can improve my bartering skills, or at the very least know what things cost if I can recognize some basic numbers.

Sabina and I end the day at the Excelsior, the bar I discovered yesterday.  Dinner is made up of donair, meat sliced from a vertical rotisserie and served wrapped in a pita.  We talk and laugh over a couple Stellas before returning to the hotel for the evening. I don't think I'll ever lose the feeling of awe I felt today, being able to touch and experience one of the few remaining true wonders of the world.

• ¤ •

"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed."

~Albert Einstein

Around the World: Cairo et Ale

February 22, 1992

"Le gateau, mettre le glaçage blanc sur le gâteau."  I'm having a dream, telling someone to put white icing on a cake.  I don't know why I'm speaking French in my sleep.

After a leisurely start to the morning, and of course, another shower, I head down to the hotel lobby for breakfast.  The waiter is a jolly man who greets me in a different language every time he passes my table.  The front desk returns my passport, complete with the required registration.  I stop by the Ministry of Tourism / Police for a map and to verify that this registration process was required and complete.  An officer takes my passport to check and when he sees all the stamps, he calls over his co-workers, who find it very interesting. All is on the up and up.

With much assistance, I find my way to the Cairo Museum.  All the street signs are in Arabic, although the name of some streets are in the alphabet I am familiar with.  As I don't know any Arabic, I find speaking French is the best way to get directions.  Unfortunately, the French I speak when I'm awake is not as good as it is while I'm sleeping.

Photo by Ronald Homer.

The Museum is packed with an amazing amount of excavated items.  The King Tut exhibit only had 300 pieces of the 5,000 piece collection on display.  The rest of it, ironically, is currently in Toronto.  Tut's tomb is one of the least decorated because he was so young when he became king and reigned for such a short time.

There is so much more to I want to see, but admiring the exhibits is difficult in the crowded museum.  It's frustrating to find something intriguing, worth spending the time to appreciate, only to be practically carried away from it in the mob that wants to move on to the next display.

Exploring Cairo, I find a shoe store and trade in my grime-of-India-ridden converse, for a pair of tartan runners for $3.  On the way back to the hotel, I find a restaurant bearing the Wimpy's logo, but in different colours.  This is the strangest fast-food place I've ever been in.  There's no queuing at the counter.  Here you sit at a table and someone brings a menu.  A "burger" is served on two plates.  One contains a small beef patty, a wiener, potato chips and an egg done over easy.  The second plate has a hamburger bun.  I'm not quite sure how this all fits together. I decide to order two, in case I get it wrong the first time.  With a soft drink, the entire meal costs $3.  Apparently it's a three dollar kind of day.

In a large cul de sac of little shops, I bought an ankh charm for my necklace, a small statue of Nefertiti and some silver rings.  One shop had beautiful fabrics.  The owner of the shop invited me in for mint tea.  We talked about all sorts of topics, none of which involved the sale of goods, and I decided on a large, black, finely crocheted shawl.

It didn't take long to figure out that there are two prices for almost everything, one for Egyptians and one for tourists.  It's no secret, either, as it's posted quite clearly for everyone to see.  As a tourist, almost everything costs twice as much as the locals pay.  I suppose it's true the saying, membership has it's privileges.

Egyptian market.
Photo courtesy of TrekEarth.

Just down the street from the hotel is a restaurant with a bar.  People watching with a pint of Stella is both relaxing and refreshing.  Just a few doors from the bar is a pastry shop, well stocked with delicious treats.  I've been out on the streets of Cairo all day, and no one has pinched my butt.  Best of all, when I return to the hotel, I'm still clean! 

Sabina found the hotel and is desperate for a shower.  I recognize the sighs and sounds of relief coming from the bathroom.  I imagine it will be a while before I see her again.

• ¤ •

"We tend to forget that happiness doesn't come as a result of getting something we don't have, but rather of recognizing and appreciating what we do have."

~Frederick Keonig