Egypt Men Part 3: Asses of Both the Human and Animal Variety

Another sleepless night found me exhausted and cranky, and that’s just not a winning combination for the intensity of Egypt. The man who met me at the station pawned me onto his “brother” who took my bags and dumped me off on the next driver. Within the hour, I had four different guys as my driver, each one of them passing me on to his “brother.” Either it’s an entire family of lazy men or the term applies loosely. The fourth dude dropped me off at my first site, Karnak.

It was as spectacular as it should have been, but I didn’t spend too much time there because we had five other places to see before things closed for the night. After an hour of walking through the ruins, I hopped back in the car. We drove to Luxor Temple…then kept on driving!

“Hey, wasn’t that on the list of places you’re going to take me?” I was not happy, and it was pretty obvious.

The guy clearly didn’t know what was in store for him when he answered, “Later. Now I need to take you to a boat for you to cross the river. The ferry costs 10 Egyptian pounds. You will meet my brother in the boat and he will take you to other sites.”

Okay, that’s enough. I’ve been nice far too long, and being a polite customer gets you nowhere out here. “WHAT? Don’t you and all your ‘brothers’ need tips? I was planning on tipping a lot of money at the end, but instead I will call up my friend in Aswan and tell him to never use you or anyone in your family again. You are all very bad drivers and are rude to your customers. No one wants to be passed around between drivers, and this next man will be my fifth within two hours.” Knowing me, I’m sure I said a lot more than just that but you get the gist.

We ended up working out that I would take the boat and the new driver, but the 300 Egyptian pounds I paid for my transportation that day would cover the ferry. I also said that if I had more than one driver on the other side, I would demand all of my money back for poor customer service. I doubt I would have had any luck with that, but it felt good to say it.

The new guy, Saber, smiled at me as I trudged onto the boat. Any other time, just the thought of crossing the Nile would make me happy. As it was, my mood was shot. I might have given a snarly smile to the man, but nothing sincere. He told me to pay, and I refused, telling him to have his boss pay with the money I gave him.

We climbed into Saber’s car and began our drive to The Valley of the Kings. I sat there in uncharacteristic silence. He said, “I can tell you’re not happy.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t like the way your company has treated me.”

“I’m sorry.” We pulled over to Egypt’s ghetto version of Circle K. Great. Someone as professional as the last four guys. I didn’t really care, I was beyond that.

Saber came out with a grocery bag filled with drinks. He pulled out a cold can of Coke and a cold 1.5 liter water. He handed them to me and said, “Here. This will make you happy.”

Does it get any cuter than that? I don’t think so. From then on, we were friends. He drove me around with Madonna’s Immaculate Collection cranked up while I sang all the words to all the songs. He took me to the other sites on my Luxor to-do list, but substituted out The Valley of the Queens for a fabulous temple that he said was better. That’s cool with me! Show me a good time and I’m happy.

After my tour finished, he asked me which hotel I was staying at so he could drop me off. I surprised him by saying that I wasn’t staying the night, and I had until 11pm to hang out in the city, so anywhere he dropped me off would be fine.

That’s when it really got interesting. He offered to take me to his family’s home. I figured I had plenty of weird experiences in Egypt, so why not add one more? We stopped at an internet café so I could buy some more phone credit, then climbed into his friend’s truck that looked like it could cart a whole ton of impoverished farm workers to a field with unsafe working conditions.

We stopped off at a shack where Saber ordered two bottles of beer and a small bottle of Egyptian whiskey. He asked me if I drank, then changed his order to four bottles of beer and refused my money. Good man! Living in Saudi Arabia makes everyone a drinker when they’re on vacation!

When we slid out of the truck, we walked along a dirt road, past a donkey and a wheat field, then up to a rough looking brick mini-mall house. It was like four houses side by side, and none of them looked finished. Children played outside, then excitedly greeted their uncle as Saber walked up. His sister heard the commotion and opened the door with a small child on her hip. Her warm greeting and humble circumstances opened my heart even more to this sweet family. She offered us dinner, but Saber told her that we would eat later. We had some drinkin’ to do!

We climbed up her cement stairs, placing a hand on the wall because there was no rail and the floor beneath us was uncovered concrete. Children here learn to grow up tough enough to withstand the harshest housing conditions, but lucky enough to ride bareback on donkeys without parental supervision. The roof was wonderful! The ghetto fabulousness blew me away! Aside from the floor covered with dirt and straw, and the electric fence instead of a rail or wall, it was fantastic! The view made all the ugliness disappear. The illuminated mountain with the Valley of the Kings, Queens and Nobles made me forget all the beige dullness of the daytime scene, and the lush fields between the rooftop and the mountain brought the beauty of rural Egyptian life front and center.

After I had a couple, I asked Saber if I could ride his donkey. I’ve done a lot of things while tipsy before, but never rode a donkey. It was awesome! I’d like to try it sober sometime, too, but that will have to come another time. I got off the donkey and Saber asked if I had ever seen a sugar cane field. Nope! So off we went.

We felt the air cool as we walked past the tall, green stalks. We sat in a dry ditch together, then laid on our backs and pointed out stars to each other, him telling me the name in Arabic and me telling him in English. It felt like a summer night in the Utah, except for the sugar cane, Egyptian guy wearing a nightgown, and speaking Arabic. He got close enough for me to smell his faint body odor, then told me about his wife leaving him four years ago. I gave him a quick word of sympathy before I scooted away a bit. Then…yup, he said something about feeling something wonderful for me. That’s a great way to put the brakes on a nice evening. I thought it was coming, but was hoping it wouldn’t. Sorry, Saber. I’m not feeling it. Time to head back.

I made it to the train station, then waited with a random cab driver until it was time to catch my train. I boarded the train, found my six-person car, then the room filled up with myself and five Egyptian men. NO THANKS! One unwanted penis on a train experience is plenty for me! I threw a tantrum on the train conductor and he found me a new room with only one man in it. Then at the next stop, it filled up with four more men. Same complaint to the same conductor. We switched again, and the same thing happened! I was pretty grouchy and tired, so I think I might have been a little scary. Anyway, it worked out okay because he kicked some guy out of a three-person room, and let me share the small room with a German couple. They spoke wonderful English and we swapped stories before dozing off to sleep for a few hours.

The night finally ended, as did my wild solo adventures in Egypt. I was ready to call it quits, spend time with another American who could laugh at all the craziness this country so enthusiastically offers, and who I would like even if we didn’t have our own version of Middle East war stories to swap. I dragged my exhausted bones into a cab and headed off to the most beautiful sight of my entire adventure: my wonderful friend, Brenda, waiting for me at a fabulous hotel with a fresh towel and an empty shower!