Pillsbury Dough-Girl

I resembled something like this when I returned from my trip:

Oh yes. Hilaaaaaaaarious, isn't it? I was pleasantly surprised, upon return to have this sweetly delivered in to my Inbox titled "This is You" from my dear friend Alex. Because no female returning from a trip through Europe (yes, I have skipped over the rest of bloody Egypt and Jordan - I'll get to it!) - also place of delicious, fatty food, freezing temperatures etc - is even the SLIGHTEST bit self-conscious about her weight and lack of tan. Oh no, not I. I was particularly pleased by the delivery, and the joyous discovery that yes, a picture does paint a thousand words. Unfortunately I wasn't able to find a picture that described the murderous thoughts I had for Alex at the time. I settled with a picture of dog, but it just wasn't quite right.

Death on the Nile

Oh I thought it would be soooo funny if something really crazy and dramatic happened while cruising down the Nile (to another member of the Royal Family, of course!). I think a few quips apply to the situation that followed for me: "Devil got you", "Be careful what you wish for" or the more simple and stunningly effective use of one word - "Karma". Oh yes... Sometimes what you wish for is the last thing you could have possibly wanted. (Mary Alice voice)

I have to admit from the outset that while I BRIEFLY thought I was going to die while we cruised down the Nile, I actually had that thought for a more prolonged period when I was back on familiar, Australian soil. So although technically (and who wants to get technical anyhow - I mean this is a HOLIDAY blog. We're relaxed, right?) it wasn't death ON the Nile, it was death as a RESULT of the Nile. So it's close enough.

This is that dreaded bit e.Coli that I somehow ingested somewhere in Egypt. Although it got me some Shadi-attention, albeit very briefly, this really didn't make up for the drama back home in Australia. Let me give you a chronology:

• Ill in Egypt - continue sightseeing, as will be buggered if I'm going to sit in a shitty hotel room with Arabic music programs for entertainment.
• Shadi stares at me longingly (hahaha! I actually meant "long") and suggests I see a Dr because, I assume, although I am gorgeous, he's seen me more gorgeous.
• Dr prescribes medicine.
• I appear to get better.
• Dr Phil checks the prescription in London and delivers the shocking news that the medicine is only available in Egypt because it doesn't work. Me no care, I think, I am BETTER! Except for some exceptional fluid retention and bloating. I blamed Royal Jordanian airlines for that one.
• Arrive in Thailand MASSIVELY bloated. Consider not leaving JP's unit, but get plastered instead. Very, very clever.
• Arrive home in Australia - hung over and bloated (I will give the bloated story later. It's great - really. Everyone loves a good laugh at my expense).
• Return to work. (This signals trouble)
• Get ill and have pain in my stomach so bad that I think I might have appendicitis. After sitting hunched over the toilets at work for approx 1 hour, a lovely secretary takes me to the Dr. I tell her I'll be fine. I pass out in the toilet from the pain (or something). Get drugs. Think will be better.
• Dr rings in panic - take new drugs or DIE!!!!!!!!! (just kidding. or end up in hospital, which in Qld is effectively a death sentence anyway).
• Take drugs. Feel better. Stop taking drugs. Start feeling "weird".
• Work hideous hours - including a Saturday. This particular fateful day, I piss blood (a beautiful thing) get lost finding the dr and ring Alex panicked - I REALLY want to go out tonight, but there is the small matter of me pissing blood and feeling hideously ill. Can she think of a tea or something I could drink that would make me ok to go out? Um, no. How about hospital.
• Hospital. I thought I would die, but it was private. I survived. Got a mother of a drip shoved into my arm and got pumped full of antibiotics (I believe I screamed). Listened to my friend Lee discuss the finer points of guys being arseholes. Like I didn't know. Hello! Where the hell was Shadi when I needed him?? (Ha ha. Just kidding).
• Home with parents to receive stern discussions re looking after oneself and working oneself into the ground. Took on board seriously the thought of taking Vitamin C. This would surely fix the bastard bacteria firmly lodged in my kidney.
• Attend the Aunty Bev rehab clinic. Fabulous. Restored immediately - counted weight watcher points; watched midday movies and soaps and attended cinema. Took lots of drugs also.
• More needles and urine tests. Got hit on by doctor - sorry but why would you make eyes at someone who is holding a cup of their own urine? Really not attractive, no matter how short the skirt and dark the tan.

So, dear reader - the hapless adventurer did not die! The story ends happily with the author returned to health and pissing regularly. I am yet to make up for the evening ruined for Alex & co. And trust me. There were plenty of "Baby" moments during the entire debacle. It's amazing how much mileage you can get out of admission to hospital.

Luxor

Previously an ancient capital city, this place was pretty cool and managed the kind of mystique I was hoping for in Cairo. Incredibly, the streets were still in basically the same condition back when the Pharoahs were walking like Egyptians in 2000 BC. Luxor is not for people with bad hips though - you really have to scrabble to get onto the sidewalks, with gutters and roads about 50 cm below the sidewalk. Climbing the streets of Luxor was the most exercise I did the entire time I was away. (No wonder I got so fat - another story).

The streets of Luxor were not only perilous to climb, but also filled with crazed horses and their carts, with the men on the front trying to drag you onto the cart to make a quick Egyptian pound. The horses were the rolling-eyes variety, so we didn't ride them until we absolutely had to (ie: shoved onto them by Shadi. Who could say no to Shadi though?).

Luxor is also a shopper's paradise - this is where I bought pretty much all of the stuff I purchased in the Middle East. Riani and I had to comb the streets to find the bazaar, but when we did, we were in heaven. This is where bargaining became really fun, and the marriage proposals came thick and fast. Time is not an issue for these people - they just sit around, smoking shisha and drinking mud-like coffee and bargaining with the occasional tourist. The first store we went into was truly revolting, but Riani seemed quite taken with all the silver. We were in there I think for an hour. The stench was foul - thick, thick smoke. The shopkeeper was worse - soccer strip, silver jewellery dripping off him, grease-monkey hair, a weasel-like expression and - troublingly - a bandaid on his face (we went back the next day and it was still there - I don't know how long bandaids stay on your skin for, but I am willing to bet that little baby had been there at least 3 days before we appeared at his door). We spent so much time in his store! Oh my God! I was subtly trying to drag Riani out (He's ripping you off; let's check out the rest of the market; it stinks in here; this guy is a freak; please, please let's get out of here) but she was in a position of power knowing that, being the baby, I wouldn't go anywhere alone. So I endured the stench. He sleazed onto Riani like I could not believe, but after an hour she remained unconvinced (we ended up back there with an hour before the boat was meant to leave, bargaining with the little monster again). Then we discovered Habib (everyone we met was called either Habib or Hussein - except Shadi of course, but he really was a breed apart) who was a lot more fun and didn't stink at all. We spent ages in his shop too, but it was more fun. Except when he tried to extract kisses from us - I wished I had a fake ring on then. No one would believe me when I said I had a damn boyfriend! It was so frustrating. Is it so hard to believe that a male would find me attractive? Apparently so. Anyway - I could rave on about the shopping in Luxor for hours, so I guess I have to limit it (I understand few people derive the same pleasure as I do dissecting each moment of a shopping expedition), but suffice to say I got some cool stuff and had loads of fun with the local men in the process. Riani got offered more camels for marriage than me which was insulting, but I just thought it was because she already had a ring and they needed to work harder to woo her. She thought it was because she had blonde hair and was prettier. hmf!

Lunch = the fateful felafel sandwich that rendered me violently ill for the next few days. Ick

We went out to Abu Simbel and had to go in an armed convoy. Before we left we got the special treatment - mirrors under the bus, armed guards stalking around looking important. Whatever. Just get me to a toilet. The bus trip was a total nightmare and we had the "Breakfast Box". I hate the Breakfast Box. They are god-awful - pretty boxes, with yucky food inside. We had them when we caught trains too. Yuck. Anyway - the temples were amazing, but this was the site of that massive terrorist attack back in 1999 with the nail bomb, which killed 52 people. Frankly I'm surprised more people didn't die - there was one exit, it was gloomy and you were crammed into this place staring at hieroglyphs with heaps of other people. The place made me mildly claustrophobic, so I hung around outside with a Melbourne family I'd met. I had to leave in the middle of a conversation to reignite my affair with the toilet women. Eesh.

Cruisin'

The Lonely Planet authors really are a pack of lying bastards. Not only was it a load of crap that you can't go to Egypt in December because it's too cold, but you also don't need to cover up that much. I mean I got groped by some lecherous pig when I was decked out in my full-on Muslim outfit, but when I was in Western tourist clothing (bikini, shorts etc) no one touched me. I decided to ignore the possible suggestion that I look better completely covered up...

Finally I had made it to the Nile. Poems have been written about it, songs sung (in Arabic so I couldn't understand them, but apparently they love singing about the Nile), and an entire book devoted to it by my favourite old lady, Aggie C. Unfortunately certain members of the Royal Family didn't get knocked off in suspicious circumstances to provide a bit of drama (which I just HATE you realise, I prefer things to be uneventful) but the Nile cruise was super relaxing and totally awesome. Dude.

Although the Nile looks quite harmless in this shot (and in all of my photos annoyingly) one shouldn't be fooled. The Nile is rife with crocodiles, parasites which sit in your stomach for 3 years before eating your internal organs long after the misguided dip in the Nile is forgotten, 3 headed fish (not scientifically proven) and some amazing chemicals. The Nile is not something you would willingly step into, unless you are American and ignorant. One American woman I spoke to washed her HAIR in it. Amazingly, it was still on her head when I spoke to her about this. I decided not to mention the parasites or the war. There are far too many Americans as it is.

I also discovered on this trip that environmental law has messed up my ability to look at a landscape an appreciate it for what it's worth. Instead of going "wow, look at the Nile" I went "oh my God you canNOT have a sewerage pumping system in the middle of the main water supply for an entire population" etc etc. Although I did say "wow" a lot just to fit in.

Exciting moments on the Nile cruise included:

• Passing through 5 star boats thinking that maybe, just maybe, our boat would be as big and luxurious. Yeah right! We were on an "adventure" tour. The boat was good though. See toilet comment below.
• Catwoman passing out on a deck chair from the ill effects of alcoholism.
• The Egyptian theme night (I dressed as Cleopatra, with that unique idea promptly shot down in flames by Shadi - dad - who told me that even though I looked "nice" (don't you just hate that word?), Cleopatra is a nobody in Egyptian culture because she lost basically the whole kingdom while she was in power and all she did was shag powerful men. Some women aspire to do that. Monica Llewinsky, Marilyn Monroe, that girl who is dating Prince William - bitch, he was mine). The crew members plus others I hadn't previously recognised on the boat also came out to liven up the party by dancing and hauling all the girls up to dance with them. The single girls didn't know quite how to react so we kind of smiled and clapped, but the married women were free to go nuts wiggling their hips like right little harem-girls. That was possibly the first time in my life I wished I was married without the additional add-ons I usually require such as loaded, hot, smart, likes BBC television shows. *sigh* The night ended with us playing cards and Shadi watching Kill Bill. I can't understand why the night ended like that.
• Playing Egyptian party games which involved hip thrusting with a potato tied around your waist, blindfolds and being drenched in water. Middle Eastern men have a weird sense of humour, I'll leave it at that.
• The toilet and hand basin - both located directly below the shower (convenient as my e.Coli began on the cruise). I figured out the finer details of how taps work, after being drenched by the shower when all I wanted to do was wash my hands.
• Fever. It began on the trip, accompanied by severe back pain and craaaaaazy hallucinations. Defintely something I ate - at first I thought I had accidently ingested magic mushrooms, although in hindsight I think it was just a dodgy felafel. Boring!
• Shadi-lust also started to reach fever pitch on the boat, I think because he was sleeping in such close proximity to us all, yet was still so distant. He took us to see a few temples, and we saw how clever he was (he studies Egyptology, he'd want to know a thing or two) which just added fuel to the crackling fire. My own fever helped me win in the attention stakes, as I came close to passing out at Komombo (the gold temple - didn't see a stick of gold mind you). He gave me concerned looks (yessss!!!!!!!!!!!) and he even TOUCHED me and asked if I was ok. He then recoiled at the burning skin and suggested I see a doctor. Even so. I won.

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!