Day 1 - Cairo

We've arrived and we're the only independent travellers on the flight. The rest are Egyptian or part of a tour. Amazing. In all the countries we've visited, that's a first. So, we are the only potential business for the taxi industry in the airport. We brush off all the offers for "limousine" service and exit the terminal. Nicola is very disappointed that we can't negotiate a price anywhere near that suggested was reasonable by our "Lonely Planet" tour guide. Whatever. We'd paid over 60$U.S. to get to JFK in New York. We can afford the equivalent of 14$C to get to our hotel in Cairo. 

Taxi drivers in the developing world scare me. For many, the condition of their vehicle or the road has little bearing as to the speed they drive. The same is true for our driver today. On the freeway into town, he accelerates until a physical obstacle impedes his progress, like traffic, a sharp corner or road maintenance. Otherwise, it's pedal to the metal. 

Entrance to our hotel

Fortunately, we don't go far before we are slowed by congestion and the game of weaving between cars, scooters, motorcycles, trucks, buses and people begins. For pedestrians, no crosswalks exist, no traffic lights, and no stop signs. People are forced to walk from one lane to the next with cars whizzing on either side through four or six lanes of traffic. I dread the moment when we have to do the same. 

All the cars, with few exceptions, have dents and scrapes. Constant honking fills our ears. Our driver curses at another. We pass many mosques. Vans and buses cross multiple lanes of traffic to make a turn. We see few women and many, many men. On the car radio, a vocalist wavers on each note while drums and horns accompany her. Nicola covers her mouth with a scarf as protection from the intense air pollution.

The streets get progressively more narrow and crowded as we approach our hotel. And then, there it

Nicola enjoying a coke in Officers Club

is, crushed between construction, appliance stores, cafes and restaurants. The Windsor Hotel was home to a British Officers club during World War I. Since that time, a number of celebrities have visited such as Michael Palin of Monty Python but either our understanding of luxury has changed or the place has become rather run down. The bar is still in pretty good shape with its barrel chairs and mahogany tables  but the rooms, not so much.

The  clerk, a middle aged guy with a sweater vest and jacket, directs us to an ancient elevator with a crank that controls its movement, up or down. No buttons to indicate desired floor. Ancient. For obvious reasons, we never use it without assistance. He shows us two rooms. One is bright, basic and on the top floor while the other is lower down and nicer but very dingy. Neither has a balcony. Nicola had reserved a room with a balcony. The clerk senses Nicola's irritation and takes us down to the desk. There he produces a key to the "best" room in the hotel, #6. And it's pretty

Ancient elevator in Windsor Hotel

good, a large with a wardrobe, a couch and coffee table,  two arm chairs and two single beds. Double beds are an extremely rare commodity in this country as Nicola discovered booking us hotels. 

One of the attendants takes me out to find an ATM. None of the machines in the nearby banks work so I get a cash advance. Then, we decide to go out to explore the town. We ask directions to Tahrir Square and the desk clerk tells us how to get to the subway. We leave our hotel and pass numerous cafes with men smoking hookahs and drinking tea or coffee. All sit the same blue, plastic chairs. 

After a couple of wrong turns, we find the subway and our way to the sales wicket. Metal barriers prevent budding into line which is as common here as China when we first visited it back in the 1980s. I purchase four tickets using fingers to make myself understood. They're two Egyptian pounds each or 14 cents Canadian. The station's a bit dingy but everything's been a bit dingy and we take a couple of minutes to figure out which direction we should be taking on the line. The trains have all-female cars but Nicola prefers to ride in the crowded men's car with me. 

Nicola at subway by our hotel

A few stops later, we emerge from the subway and immediately recognize Tahrir Square from the news footage of revolution demonstrations back in 2011. I'm kind of surprised it's not as large as it appeared on television. Nicola points to the Egyptian museum on the other side of the square and I notice the traffic. So much traffic and somehow we have to find away across it. I can see neither crosswalks nor streetlights. The pedestrian nightmare I'd witnessed from the taxi on our trip in is now ours. 

Across the street we spot what looks like a western couple headed for what could, our destination, the Nile. Why we would think this, I do not know? Nevertheless, we follow.  Hesitant to follow the Egyptian lead on crossing the street, we wait for a break in the traffic. We wait and wait and wait and by the time we cross, the couple's long gone. Nevertheless, we continued in that direction for a few metres until a portly 50-something-year-old gentleman asks where we we're headed. We tell him and he says the opposite direction would be better. 

Tahrir Square - Egyptian Museum in red

He's friendly and seemingly harmless so we take his advice which happens to be the same direction he is headed. Sure enough, we pass a shop and he directs us inside claiming it's his own. He introduces us to his son who directs us inside, invites us to sit down while a girl he claims is his sister brings us some tea. Then he gets down to business and, in the end, we have purchased seven paintings for $200C. I thought we were seasoned travellers but that's the beauty of adventure. You never know where it's going to take you and how well you cope. Explaining the disaster that was our first experience with Egyptian salesman, I'll leave to a separate blog. I compare it to the time my wallet was stolen at the Guinness factory in Dublin. 

After some pointless wandering we stop for dinner at a Lebanese restaurant in the Intercontinental Semiramis. We have a bunch of appetizers which I believe were of the highest quality for Lebanese food but, no offence it my Lebanese friends, not particularly tasty. Exhausted from jet lag, we return to the Windsor Hotel and some much needed sleep. 

Us after we finally found the Nile