Prayers

I forgot to mention in my other post prayers. Frankly I don´t know how I forgot.

My first day in Cairo I ventured out alone in search of water (the fun part about developing countries is the dodgy water in which you must bathe, brush your teeth, and where all of the food in the country is washed in - as a result I didn´t eat salad for 3 weeks. Nasty). Our hotel was located in a "nice" residential part of Cairo according to the Lonely Planet. Aside from being groped, almost hit by about 10 million cars trying to cross the road and attempting not to breathe in or stand in the pollution that is pumped out into the environment, I guess you could describe it as "nice" if you had to.

I walked past one corner shop and dismissed it because there were no females in there. Crippled by fear, I ended up returning. Crossing the road in Egypt is no laughing matter. It takes guts, resilience and a positive attitude. So because I couldn´t cross the road, I trundled back to the corner shop, got food and water and discovered some women, but I don´t think they were really meant to speak to anyone because they avoided all eye contact very impressively. As I left, a strange gutteral moaning came out of the sky. The sound crescendoed, and then there were some decipherable Arabic words screeched out. The men in the shop turned and stared at me, and I thought briefly that this was a call to war against tourists. Unfortunately I was wrong. Five times per day in the middle east, beginning at 4:30-5 am is call to prayer, where some maniac shrieks into a loud speaker summoning everyone to their knees in prayer. No carols, no choir, no sweet angelic harmony. Every morning for 3 weeks I was woken by this. Each meal was eaten with the sounds of prayer in the background.

And can you believe it, but women aren´t allowed to pray with men! The way men have to cleanse themselves after contact with women prior to prayer (otherwise they are dirty! Hello! Parasites in the WATER!!!) you would think that women were like pigs or something. Just one of the many iss-ues I have with the way women are treated in the Middle East. Don´t even get me started on the bloody burqua. Eesh.

The Royal Family (aka the Tour Group)

So called because we are lazy, slow, and like nothing more than to sit around eating and talking. If it weren´t a dry country, we would also enjoy drinking. Anyway - let me introduce you...

The Patriarch: Shadi, our tour leader. Shadi (pronounced Shardy, but who introduced himself as "I´m Shardy your tour leader. It´s spelt like shady. Like dodgy." This was the longest sentence he uttered the entire trip essentially). Shadi was the distant patriach who spoke little, yet everyone desparately vied for his attention and a display of concern from him. I won, but it took a nasty bout of e.coli to do it. Shadi sat around smoking a shisha, drinking coffee and observing. He had nothing to say to us. We were all like boring wives.

The Matriarch: Jean, wife of Dave. Jean is English born and married to a Kiwi guy, Dave who she bosses around with a considerable amount of authority and little concern for how she sounds when she demands money, food or water. Jean is cool and interesting, but she´s the boss.

Amoeba Girl: Weird looking, weird mannerisms and a very sudden burst of alcoholism in the last few days of the trip which involved her scouring the backstreets of Alexandria for even one drop of alcohol. I thought she was a cancer patient when I first met her (she´s incredibly pale, draws on her eyebrows - I thought lost through chemo - and I also thought she´d lost her hair because she had a Canteen bandanna on. All of these things are actually fashion statements.) Anyway careful questioning appeared to indicate she is not a cancer patient, plus she has all her hair. No explanation for the eyebrows though.

Luke & Lila: They are one entity. A couple from Perth married in March. They are seriously a pin-up for marriage, they have such an amazing relationship. I was jealous, but I didn´t marry an Egyptian despite offers of thousands of camels (yuck).

Catwoman: Friends with Amoeba Girl. She was on a mission to save every stray cat (a hangover from the Sphinx I imagine) on the streets of Cairo, and she would get very titchy if someone said something mean about cats. Actually she would become pathological. She was older than she appeared and had some very strange mannerisms - a weird shuffle-walk, head twitch, and twist of the mouth. She also went through an alcoholic phase, and would pass out on a sun bed on the Nile cruise. Very weird.

The Chimney: Puffing on a cigarette every opportunity she got, this woman smoked about 4 packs a day. God she stank. She said to Riani (concerned-dr hat on) that she would quit whenever she wanted. Last purchase in Egypt? What for any ordinary smoker would be a lifetime supply of cigarettes. Will probably last her a week.

The Fearless Protector: Riani. I have mentioned her - she was like my saviour. We had the exact same inappropriate thoughts (I bet there is a bomb on this bus) at the exact same instant. We both cried in various middle eastern airports for similar reasons - men holding machine guns and saying "no" to us - we both don´t like this word. Riani was the person I clung to when we crossed the road and whose plate I checked to see if the food was OK to eat. (She´s a dr after all!)

The Baby: Me. I refused to go anywhere by myself, had the attention span of a gnat and sulked when things didn´t go my way. On the odd occasion I did do something by myself, I would take the first opportunity I had to be with other people again. I got so lonely! I also got attention from Shadi (dad) because I gobbled my food so fast and got some nasty bacteria which caused fever, back ache, sore belly and hallucinations. Dad even got me a dr.

There were others on the tour, but they were normal which is boring. But they were nice! I really liked my tour group and everywhere we went we had fun. I would NEVER travel through a Middle Eastern country by myself. Never never never.

Pollution, Pigs and Pyramids

Cairo. It's not stinky the way Bangkok is, but boy is it polluted! There is a very thick layer of smog and dust enveloping Cairo, and the cloud never appears to lift. Buildings get lost in the smog - it's pretty foul.

I met my new best friend in my room - Riani. She's 24, South African, an intern (who hasn't seen Grey's Anatomy!!! I told her to get the DVD) and my new friend and fearless leader. She's been hijacked, shot at and has saved people's lives and can speak all these African languages which she says at the Egyptians to bamboozle them. It's great. Anyway - she being the fearless leader, I basically follow her around. And lucky for me - our first outing for food in Cairo involved some freak (i.e PIG) groping me as I walked past him. What the?? Riani got groped as well somewhere else, and so she yelled something African and magical at the guy, and he ran away in a very Napoleon Dynamite-esque manner. he he he... We couldn't find the restaurant our tour leader told us to go to, and since everywhere else is apparently too hardcore for our delicate Western stomachs we ended up at KFC (I am SO ashamed, but it's better than food poisoning) where we were leered at by every single male in the restaurant. We kept searching around the streets afterwards, but realised it wasn't the best district to be in - there were no women anywhere, and the word "Hello" had suddenly taken on a slightly more sinister tone. (insert spooky music obviously).

We went to the Pyramids and Sphinx at Giza which were just the COOLEST! My God they are HUGE!!! I pity the poor bastards that had to build them!!! It was a little hard to see the tops because of the pollution, but they were amazing. And the armed guards were on camel back, which was hilarious. Camels run pretty fast though. Mental note for Mt Sinai. eek!!! And there were all these weirdo guys trying to take pictures of Western girls and hold our hand. Yucky. Again - "hello" is best not responded to.

After that we had Egyptian take-away - felafel in pita! It was so yummy! And it cost about 50 cents!!! Then we had a papyrus demonstration which was bloody boring, but I bought some anyway. Joy. My first purchase in Egypt.

A good frisking

Well, the high drama of my night of anxiety in Jordan was sorted out with a cup of coffee in the morning (very sweet, not Modena, but pretty good) and it was time for my flight to Cairo. Prior to departure I ended up helping a bunch of handicapped (yes everyone, LAUGH) Jordanian and Iraqi (gasp! They are really nice! And didn't hate me, even though we are invading their country and they may or may not have lost their legs because of us bombing them. I just didn't ask). I only took it upon myself to be so nice because basically no one in the departure room had legs apart from me, so I felt bloody awful, and one woman slipped off a chair in front of me and couldn't really move properly (she had one leg at least). I'm not really known for sensitivity, so I think I did really really well not giggling because it was just so weird! Not because handicap is funny. eesh. Anyway - they got carried onto the plane, and I walked. I gathered by their tracksuits (I'm not going to make any jokes here, even though I could) they were part of some big sporting event. Whatever.

On arrival in Cairo I was greeted by LOTS of people (with legs). One old lady started blabbing in Arabic at me and when I said I didn't understand she started kissing me. Whatever. One of the bonuses of being a woman in an Islamic country (trust me - I haven't noticed many) is that you can get into these express women-only queues. So I pretty much hurtled through customs which was great. Some idiot American guy had a major, major tantrum and started screaming about discrimination and why couldn't HE be in the fast line too? It just wasn't FAIR! What a wanker. He's screaming to a woman who is covered head to foot in considerable heat while her male counterparts wear whatever they want about discrimination?

I got frisked for good measure too in Jordan and Cairo(Australian passport).

The trip to the hotel I saw a lot of guns. And there was a car that said "Government car. Likely to explode". Sheesh!

Jordan

I was terrified before I got on the plane. I am ashamed to say (and I blame the media in part) but the look of Middle Eastern men is so so scary. That, and every single man appeared to have about 30 kgs of luggage each. What the hell was in those bags? So I was pretty nervous. I figured if the plane didn't blow up (dreadful thoughts, I know), then it would sink into the ocean due to overloading. Obviously, neither of these things happened.

By the time I got to Jordan I was dying for a shower and a sleep. Instead, I got stuck at a service desk having a mini-domestic with a very tall, dark eyed man about my transfer. My brilliantly inefficient travel agent had failed to sort out the transfer properly, so I would have to pay or fly on to Cairo - estimated arrival time midnight. Yeah right.

Anyway, I was feeling pretty rattled after the little fight, and when I got to the immigration desk the man was like "Why are you not smiling? You made it to Jordan. You must be happy. Smile". That seems fine on paper, but everything sounds like an order over there. After sighting a UN peace keeping truck on the tarmac, I was not going to mess around with anyone official, so I put on what I can only imagine must have been a sickly grin. Then, because my handwriting is so dreadful, he started teasing me about having 5 children. He was trying to be nice, but I was getting so flustered, and asked if I needed to fill it out again. No - he could tell I wasn't married. Ok then. So I darted off grinning madly as he ordered me to "Smile!".

The smile was starting to wear thin by the time I got to the hotel, but there was just the nicest Concierge there. Jordanian people really are lovely, but the strain of the situation was starting to take its toll. I kept on with my god-awful smile (I got an upgrade for my efforts) and when I got to my room, turned on CNN and found out Van Nguyen had been executed (I can't believe it, by the way.) I was almost tipped over the edge. Then - of all things - The Sound of Music came on. Ordinarily this is the type of thing to send me off to sleep. Or at least hum. Oh no. I started imagining that my luggage (kindly sent on by the airline to Cairo so I had no toiletries, clothes etc at the hotel) was now stuffed with illicit substances, and that upon arrival I would be arrested and stoned to death in a public square. Poor Phuong bore the brunt of my paranoia with a rather tear soaked telephone call (WHERE were my parents - although in hindsight, better not to have worried them with my wild imagination at that particular point).

I am also ashamed to admit that I was too scared to go outside to find food. So it was a rather miserable evening, with only Julie Andrews and my growling stomach for company. Insomnia and my imagination kept me awake, so I listened to the prayer channel (you really have no choice in the matter - everything else is stopped for prayer on cable) and watched the sun rise over the desert, which was spectacular. It sounds boring, but it was amazing. I can't wait for more sunrises on the trip!

I've Got One Word For You: Business Class!

Last Sunday night, I could have kicked myself for thinking the movie-length episode of Kath & Kim was on at 8.30, not 730. I thought to myself - this is the last bit of Aussie "culture" for almost 2 months!! I couldn't have been more wrong.

The flight to Thailand started well - I got an upgrade to a seat above the wing, so there were no seats in front of me. It was pure bliss. Unfortunately for me, the next few rows in front of that a real life Kath & Kim episode was playing out. This was going to last 9 hours.

A bunch of about 8 Aussies were going absolutely nuts in front - speaking in the loudest voices ever about how much cool stuff they will buy in Thailand, and how everything will all be really "noice and different" (I am NOT kidding) and won't be the "crap" that some friend brought back from her trip. The boys of course were hoing into the Rum & Cokes like it was water in the Sahara, and talk eventually turned to how many "ladies" they were going to pick up and went into various detail that is just not necessary here. All of the guys were in uniform - rugby shorts, singlets and thongs. One had dressed himself up a bit with a black pleather hat in the style of our very own Crocodile Dundee. Quiet ensued for about 1 hour while the boys perved on Hilary Duff (inflight movie of course) and made the occasional comments such as "man, she looks like that chick I got meself at the Vic that time. Do youse guys remember that? Gawd she was hot".

Anyway the rest of Thailand was great, and the highlights were:

• watching a bunch of girls on Schoolies do themselves proud by getting absolutely trashed at an island party and standing on tables which subsequently crashed to pieces beneath their writhing bodies - so they ran off down the road and weren't seen again. The other girls in the group were holding the hair back off a friend, and chatting up men who were so OLD it was just awful. I just sat back and watched. he he he
• being given a look of absolue contempt by a woman when I tried to get into a posh hotel in Bangkok. Thongs are not allowed. Not even Haviannas. Bitch. I got in - but she made me wear these hideous mens shoes. I mean hello! As if I wasn't upset enough that I didn't have a pair of high heels to wear - don't rub it in lady! But the indignity of men's shoes. It was beyond awful. Dinner was fabulous though.

Next stop Jordan. Eesh.