I arrive in the biggest city of both the Middle East and Africa in the afternoon, after a three and a half hour flight from Frankfurt. My heart skips a beat when I see the Giza pyramids from the airplane. Unfortunately, there is also a thin, hazy layer of smog lingering in the atmosphere, visible enough for you to know that this is not a raincloud.
First impressions: I walk out of the tarmac while waiting for my wife and son, and am met by a full hot blast of at least 95 degrees. No, that was certainly not a raincloud, I remind myself. I recall a similar experience when I first visited Phoenix years ago, and this is no different.
Our driver picks us up on time, then proceeds to take us to Maadi, one of the more prestigious quarters in Cairo. On our way, we pass what seems like thousands of highrise apartment complexes. If the limit to building residential apartment complexes in Amman, Jordan, is four floors, we quickly discover there is no limit as to how high people can build here. That restriction probably went out the window the day the pyramids were built.
Of course, the differences don't end there.
The driving: we'd been warned about that by our friends in Amman, how much worse it would be in Cairo. My wife and I completely disagree. Not that these people are boy scouts, far from it. They drive as fast as the Jordanians, some even faster. However, they also make liberal use of the little thing in the middle of the steering wheel called a horn. Nice little device to have, actually. Whereas the Jordanian will cut you off or speed in the slow lane without so much as a warning (meaning a blinker), the Egyptians will let you know in uncertain terms that they are behind you and in a hurry. The apartment, courtesy of a former colleague of my wife, is located next to the American College of Cairo, a street completely barring any traffic from entering.
The city itself does not compare to the modern flair of Amman, such is the curse of being old. Cairo reminds us more of Morocco, where the trash on one block of a residential neighborhood could easily fill a landfill to the brim. In general, the buildings are much older, too many of them completely unfit for human habitation, old relics that survived from the British.
In the evening, my wife and I take a cab into downtown Cairo, where we board a little boat and cruise down the Nile for a dollar each. This must be the 'cool boat': adorned with Christmas lights twisting around the bars of a cage-like enclosure, the boat is equipped with an engine equipped to drive a motor boat, at best. The moment we take off, loud techno music blares from a stereo to accompany the bright lights of the many highrises looming on the shores of the mighty Nile. On the bank of the river from where we left, you can see a clothesline with wet laundry hanging, next to it a makeshift tea stand with a hot pot brewing. My wife and I also realize we were the only foreigners on the boat. Where were the others? Why, on the sleek luxury liners offering dinners and musical bands, of course. Still not bad entertainment for a dollar, I'd say.
The Egyptian currency is the pound, although people prefer to take British pounds or the euro. We pay five dollars for the cab to drive us one hour into town, maybe the equivalent of five US dollars. The rule in Egypt is to never, never even listen to street merchants, here known as 'mosquitoes', because once they latch on they will not leave without anything of value. Even the peskiest merchants of Tijuana selling their cheap leatherware have nothing on these guys.
Eventually, we go home, tired, but happy about our tour and a good dinner at a fine Lebanese restaurant. The best is still to come.
First impressions: I walk out of the tarmac while waiting for my wife and son, and am met by a full hot blast of at least 95 degrees. No, that was certainly not a raincloud, I remind myself. I recall a similar experience when I first visited Phoenix years ago, and this is no different.
Our driver picks us up on time, then proceeds to take us to Maadi, one of the more prestigious quarters in Cairo. On our way, we pass what seems like thousands of highrise apartment complexes. If the limit to building residential apartment complexes in Amman, Jordan, is four floors, we quickly discover there is no limit as to how high people can build here. That restriction probably went out the window the day the pyramids were built.
Of course, the differences don't end there.
The driving: we'd been warned about that by our friends in Amman, how much worse it would be in Cairo. My wife and I completely disagree. Not that these people are boy scouts, far from it. They drive as fast as the Jordanians, some even faster. However, they also make liberal use of the little thing in the middle of the steering wheel called a horn. Nice little device to have, actually. Whereas the Jordanian will cut you off or speed in the slow lane without so much as a warning (meaning a blinker), the Egyptians will let you know in uncertain terms that they are behind you and in a hurry. The apartment, courtesy of a former colleague of my wife, is located next to the American College of Cairo, a street completely barring any traffic from entering.
The city itself does not compare to the modern flair of Amman, such is the curse of being old. Cairo reminds us more of Morocco, where the trash on one block of a residential neighborhood could easily fill a landfill to the brim. In general, the buildings are much older, too many of them completely unfit for human habitation, old relics that survived from the British.
In the evening, my wife and I take a cab into downtown Cairo, where we board a little boat and cruise down the Nile for a dollar each. This must be the 'cool boat': adorned with Christmas lights twisting around the bars of a cage-like enclosure, the boat is equipped with an engine equipped to drive a motor boat, at best. The moment we take off, loud techno music blares from a stereo to accompany the bright lights of the many highrises looming on the shores of the mighty Nile. On the bank of the river from where we left, you can see a clothesline with wet laundry hanging, next to it a makeshift tea stand with a hot pot brewing. My wife and I also realize we were the only foreigners on the boat. Where were the others? Why, on the sleek luxury liners offering dinners and musical bands, of course. Still not bad entertainment for a dollar, I'd say.
The Egyptian currency is the pound, although people prefer to take British pounds or the euro. We pay five dollars for the cab to drive us one hour into town, maybe the equivalent of five US dollars. The rule in Egypt is to never, never even listen to street merchants, here known as 'mosquitoes', because once they latch on they will not leave without anything of value. Even the peskiest merchants of Tijuana selling their cheap leatherware have nothing on these guys.
Eventually, we go home, tired, but happy about our tour and a good dinner at a fine Lebanese restaurant. The best is still to come.
