It’s a Small World

As in harassment,bothering, annoyance,bugging, aggravation, bedevilment, and sometimes funny.

Warning: Image might be triggering, for sure to Nette.

Carriage Drivers

It’s seems rather negative to write a whole blogpost on the things in Egypt that would keep me from going back, but as they were a very real part of the trip, an issue of discussion and differences within the group, and the source of some of the wildest emotions a regular lady can experience, write I must.

We’ll start with the worst and get that over with. Carriage drivers in Luxor. What is it with these dudes? Why can a person not just walk off and ignore? Why does my blood have to boil until I really truly feel shaky? I thought it was just a me problem, but have come to find out it’s not. There is something about these guys that just plain pushes a woman over the edge. I think it’s cause they’re a teeny bit scary, and they absolutely don’t respect a single thing you say. Nothing. As Garrett succinctly explained it, they turn women into cornered cats.

This is how it goes.

You are walking along, minding your own business, enjoying the weather, the rippling Nile dotted with sail boats and looking with interest at the ancient temple you’re passing. Suddenly in the distance you spy a hated horse and carriage and at the same time the driver spies you. He perks up, whips the horse and comes clattering over to you. You look around for a dark corner to dive into, and there’s none to be had. Exposed and vulnerable on the Front Street of Luxor. But, you tell yourself, it won’t be a big deal. I will be polite. I won’t be horrid. No. I am a big girl. It’s just a stupid carriage driver. It doesn’t matter that he’s now prancing right beside me, keeping exact pace with my quickened walk.

Carriage Drive: Helllooooooo! Where are you going?

Me: Silence

CD: Helllooooo! Where are you going? I can take you there.

Me: No thanks

CD: Hello! I can take you there.

Me: No thanks

CD: Do you know how much?

Me: Silence

CD: Do you even know how much?

Me: I’m good

CD: Need a ride?

Me: Silence

CD: Where are you from?

Me: Silence

CD: Are you from Poland? Hello Poland! Or from Germany? Maybe the UK?

Me: Silence

CD: Where are you going? Would you like a ride?

Me: Silence

CD: Hello Brazil! Would you like a ride, Brazil? Do you know how much?

Me: I’m Canadian

CD: Canada Dry! Canada Dry, never die, I can take you where you are going.

Me: NO

CD: You know how much, Canada? Not much.

Me: Silence

CD: Would you like a ride? I can take you.

Me: silent, but now my fists are balled

CD: It’s not much, Canada. Do you know how much? Do you?

Me: Silence

CD: Where are you going?

Me: Silence

CD: Would you like a ride? Do you want to ride in the carriage?

Me: NO!!! I DO NOT WANT A RIDE. I WOULD NEVER, EVER RIDE WITH YOU, EVEN IF I LIVED TO BE TWO HUNDRED YEARS OLD I WOULD NOT SET FOOT IN YOUR CARRIAGE. NOT NOW! NOT EVER!

And just like that, he had won again.

Taxi Drivers

Also of the Luxor variety. A group of eager taxi drivers lallygagged on the street in front of our hotel at all hours, and they persistently tried to take us here and there, or at least give good advice! The only thing that made them better than the carriage drivers was that they didn’t trail you around in their cars, staying in your face till another victim hove into sight. These guys just followed you a foot or two, and if they thought you might choose someone else to drive you, there’s a chance a fight would break out. This legit happened to Heath. He was in the middle of a fairly stressful situation, namely all our Sharm flights had been canceled last minute and Air Cairo’s customer service number was “not in service”, the wifi was patchy and it was all getting to him. Finally, in desperation he decided to go to the physical Air Cairo office in Luxor and try to do something there. No big deal, let’s just hail a taxi. Well, that’s all fine and good, but when the drivers have to duke it out, fists flying and people in the dust, and that’s how they decide who gets to bring you, it’s a tad disconcerting and mildly annoying. When the one with the swiftest fists also happens to be the one who doesn’t have a hot clue where he’s going, in spite of insisting he knew where said destination was, and then charges you an exorbitant fee for having to drive all over the city, you don’t feel very charitable towards the taxi guys. Rip offs. That’s what they are. Oh, the Air Cairo office couldn’t help. They don’t do customer service. Shrug.

The Souk

Souks in Egypt can be hilarious or maddening. It totally depends on one’s mood. I get a rather large kick out of strolling through them, chatting with people and hearing their ridiculous sales pitches. I took several passes through the one in Luxor, as it was right outside our hotel, and became affectionately known as “Canada”. I was offered everything from spices to fabric, small scarab beetles to shisha. Or maybe a magnet or Canada! We have papyrus! Incense maybe? Oils of ancient Egypt?

“Welcome to Alaska”, a smiling vendor tells me.

“What can I get you?” shouts another one? “I have scarves, bags, dresses, maybe a hijab or dalabia, fabrics, maybe a purse?”

“Nothing” I shout over my shoulder.

“Nothing? I have that too” he shouts back, and we laugh together.

Tips, tips and more tips

The sign clearly says “No Tips” in the airport bathroom, but that has not affected the bathroom attendant. As soon as I sweep in to do my business, she greets me and starts obviously shuffling her American dollars. Ok, ok, I spend time in the stall getting my money out, and as I thank her for handing me paper towels from a very easy to reach spot, I also give her 10 pounds. And really, that’s ok. I would hate to spend all day every day hanging out in a public restroom, wiping up spills and greeting people.

At most tourist places the bathrooms have a flat fee of 10£, and by paying you also get a few squares of toilet paper. Rarely more than five or seven, but I once caught the attendant while he was distracted and he gave me reams. I was inordinately pleased. There’s always the corrupt attendant that insists the fee is 20£, but they rarely stick to their guns. I guess each tourist is a new opportunity, so why not try it? And for those who want to know, there are not squat pots in Egypt. They are the normal variety. There is also not always soap or paper towels or well functioning doors, but that’s just a minor inconvenience.

Back to tips.

You also must tip your driver, the tour guide, the person who pointed at a picture, the person who grabbed your luggage from you at the airport, the person who stood beside the person who grabbed your luggage at the airport, the person who cleared your breakfast table, the person who served you welcome juice, the person who held the elevator door open, the person who held the bin for you after security while you plucked your things out, the person who lifted the fence for you so you could cut in line through security, the person who sang you a song in a room in a mosque, the person who looked after your shoes while you were in the mosque, the person who looked after you while you were in the mosque, the person who said it was your turn to go into the tomb, the person who grabbed your elbow when you might have stumbled in the tomb, the camel herder who had already taken half your retirement fund, the camel herders friend who supported the camel herder, the tourist police representative….

One needed plenty of little bills.

Tips in themselves are not an annoyance. That’s just the system. And some for sure deserve it. It’s vaguely annoying to tip for something that you could have done perfectly well without help, but it’s not that big of a deal. You just feel like a walking ATM. A person needs an automatic bill flicker to constantly be shooting a stream of money for the workers and the beggars alike.

General Rip Offs

As Heath says, you have to come to grips with the fact before you leave home that you will be royally ripped off a time or two on your trip. This makes it much easier to bear when it happens.

I was royally and horribly ripped off at a bakery in Sharm el Sheikh. Money has never been my strong point, but even I knew that what they were charging me for some of yesterday’s baked goods was too much, but I just really didn’t have the guts to fight it.

I witnessed Jane fall into the same trap I have a few times, when you get so excited by a spice that you get it measured out before you ask the price. While you are trying to process what they actually said, they are wrapping up your purchase with great flourish, and your protests just aren’t what they could be. You feel like an idiot for getting duped, bleat a slightly lower price that they graciously accept and walk out feeling took. Cause you have been. Spices can do that to a person, with their heady scent and the mesmerizing beauty of them pouring off a scoop into a bag… This particular con artist actually had the grace to rush after us and give her a little gift. Stinker.

I made a habit of buying Fury (horrible unhealthy energy drink) in Luxor, and that in itself was amazing. The prices I got quoted! It should have been 20£, which is 40 cents in my money. I got told any number up to 80£ by shopkeepers that were side by side. It’s a little annoying, when for a basic drink you have to barter or choose your shop very carefully. If anyone needs to know where the prices are best, ask me.