My Facebook news feed has informed me that a lot of Americans (or at least the ones I’m Internet friends with) don’t think Obama deserves of the Nobel Peace Prize. After traveling in Cairo this past week, I’d argue that the optimism of the Egyptian people upon hearing that my friends and I were from the United States is a case for Obama’s accomplishments. As we walked down the streets, as obvious Westerners and probable Americans, men would shout, “America? Obama!” Every cab driver and restaurant server would start smiling uncontrollably when we told them we were visiting from the land of Obama.
The trip was one of the most adventurous and eye-opening weeks of my life. After two bus rides through deserts — the Negev in Israel and the Sinai in Egypt — and lots of unsure waiting in between, I arrived in the largest city in Africa, a place of population density like I had never experienced in my life. Cairo made New York, Chicago and Los Angeles all feel small and made Jerusalem feel like a scenic country town. The city reeks of hookah smoke and car exhaust, making me question if United States actually deserves the heat we get about pollution and causing global warming.
I could keep talking for hours about what I saw and experienced in Cairo, but I’ll try to limit this to the highlights:
- The Egyptian people. I was traveling in a group of three boys and two girls. One of the boys, the self-appointed leader of our trip, emphasized the importance of protecting us two girls at all times. He said Egyptian men would be staring at us every step we took. While we definitely got unwanted attention (including a marriage proposal in exchange for one million camels) I was shocked by how friendly all the citizens were. Hardly anyone spoke English, but everyone wanted to try. Those who did speak English took it upon themselves to get us where we needed to be. Once we got off the bus in Giza and a fellow bus passenger traveled with us where we said we were going — a 45-minute train ride across the city.
- American restaurants. I’m all for experiencing local cuisine. However, there’s really only one Egyptian dish — koshary, a mix of spaghetti, macaroni and lentils, topped with tomato sauce, lemon juice, chickpeas and fried onions — that we could find to try. Egyptian restaurants don’t even have menus, because they actually only serve koshary. What Cairo did have were a variety of much missed American restaurants. I ate at a floating TGI Friday’s on the Nile River, a Starbucks and a Chili’s.
- Getting around. Every time we heard about one of our beloved chain restaurants in the middle east, my friends and I would jump in a cab and ask the driver (who never spoke English) to take us to our desired venue. They would always agree on a price, without letting on that they had no idea where they were taking us, and then repeatedly jump out of the car to ask for directions, which only helped somewhat. When we asked for “Friday’s” we were taken to “Pharoahs,” when we asked for “Starbucks” we were taken to “Second Cup” and when we asked for “Chili’s” we were taken to “Cilantro.” The most ridiculous part of getting around Cairo was the driving.
- The streets of Cairo. There are no apparent driving laws or regulations in Cairo. The wide highways are full of speeding cars ignoring the occasional presence of lane lines. There are also no crosswalks, meaning that to get anywhere one must run through several lanes of speeding traffic. I initially refused the activity, but after a few hours of walking around the city “running through cars for dear life” became an exhilarating game.
- The Egyptian Museum. In my youth I was a bit of an Egypt nerd. I dragged my parents to The Met and The British Museum to see the ancient remains. I have actually been looking forward to visiting The Egyptian Museum since I was 11. After finally getting there, it was a bit of a letdown. I’d best describe the museum as a warehouse of artifacts. Room upon room is filled from floor to ceiling with dusty glass cases of ancient relics. There is little evident care given to preserving or presenting the objects. There were no explanation cards explaining the museum’s unique collection. And possibly most disappointing were the obvious restoration efforts made on several artifacts which left them looking like modern plastic recreations.
- The tourist exploiters. Egyptian businessmen work in groups to milk the tourists for all they’re worth. When we got out of our cab at the Khan el Khalili marketplace one of my friends took cash to obviously from her wallet to pay for the ride. We were immediately approached by a man who said he was not a merchant and was not a tour guide, but wanted to show us the best deals so we would not be ripped off. He took us through back allies to show us an artist making boxes and chess sets of seashells and another hand-painting papyrus. If we said we couldn’t afford something he would yell, “I know you’re lying, I saw it.” The man clearly worked on commission for bringing business to these two back shops. Similarly, when we got off the bus near the pyramids we were immediately approached by someone who essentially shoved us in a bus, claiming he’d give us the best deal on camel rides to the Pyramids. The rides operated out of a papyrus gallery and a perfume shop. We ended up being shuffled between about six people before the eventual guide took us out on horses through the desert near the pyramids. We were not given the nine-pyramid tour we’d been promised as students, were not taken close to the pyramids or the sphinx, were not given camels to ride or even with which to take pictures. We ended up arguing about our dissatisfaction but were only given most of our money back when I whipped out my pocket notebook and began scribbling down some fake notes. “What are you doing! This is not my business! Don’t write bad about my name!” So maybe Medill has given me some useful skills.
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