All Sortsa Extra Photos

Egyptian Relief Carving, Karnak

Various photos from the trip that I never posted from Egypt and Southern India. We're at our respective families' homes now, visiting relatives and relaxing until it's time to head to Washington DC to see our old college friends. It's entirely too cold here, and Taipei-acclimated hothouse orchid that I am, 35 degrees feels like -100 to me. DC is apparently very pleasant and while I'll miss my family, I'm looking forward to warmer climes.

Painting in Karnak

Veggie Shopping in Luxor

Luxor Temple and Old Saint's Tomb

Kathakali in Kerala

Planting Crops in Wayanad

Theyyam in northern Kerala - this was the first guy to invite possession by the gods of this small temple 20km from Kannur

Stones and Sand in Kannur on hte Malabar Coast

Kathakali performance - a female demon captures women for her brother's pleasure

The demon disguised as a beautiful woman tries to seduce a warrior (the dude in green)

Makeup for Kathakali

Cochin Fisherman and his net

Feeding the Pigeons at the Jain Temple

Window in "Jew Town" (hey I didn't choose the name)

Cochin Harbor

God Heads at an Antique Store

Syrian Christian Advertising, Cochin

In India, Nothing is so Special as the Relationship Between a Man and His Bike

The Malayalis are big on democratically-elected Communist governments.

1100-year old Moppila Muslim mosque, Calicut

Sunset in Cochin

Tribal Matriarch, Wayanad, Kerala

Shiva Nataraj, Elephanta Island, Mumbai

Coptic Christian relief in Cairo

Gods and Stuff on Trees

Cairo Pot

Tiny Lamps Light Up the Night, in Ernakulam, Kerala

Sunset on the Nile, Aswan

Tea pots, Cairo

Gateway to the Khan el-Khalili

Lamps in a Mosque, Cairo

Man Making Wall Hangings, Cairo (formerly Tent-makers Street)

Lamps and pots in Luxor

Huge Columns of Karnak, Luxor

Karnak

Giant Broken Obelisk, Karnak

Gateway of Ramses II, Karnak

The Deserts of Nubia, Aswan

Aswan Souq

Ruins of Abu, Elephantine Island, Aswan

On The Road

When I met up with Shormistha earlier this month, we expounded for a bit on hotels while traveling. We came up with the following:

There are two kinds of hotels in developing countries.

The first is the 'country hotel'. Though you can sometimes find these in cities (we stayed in one in Bangalore) they are usually found in towns of moderate-to-middling size, with maybe one or two spots of interest to visitors, and even those are the B-list celebrities of the tourism world. Curious or off-the-beaten-path travelers pass through but rarely; most visitors are there for weddings or funerals.

When you walk into these hotels, you can expect to see a room. It will be painted pastel green, pink or possibly both and have a ratty brown chair, at least 30 years old, in one corner. There will be grime on the walls and it will smell of incense and goats.

This room may or may not have a reception desk and there may or may not be anyone manning it. If someone is there, he is likely to be sleeping. Possibly in a chair, and possibly with a cricket match on the television in front of him.

One thing this room almost always has is a photograph (black and white or cheap technicolor) of a long-dead relative of the proprietor, hung high on the wall. In India, this photograph will be decorated with incense, sandalwood paste and marigolds.

When you finally wake up the sleeping person, you will find that he isn't actually the concierge. He may be a watchman or errand-boy, a friend of the concierge, a relative of the owner or just some guy who wandered in and took a nap.
"I want a room," you ask - in the local language if you're savvy like that.
"Room?" he will reply.
"Yes, room!"
He will putter around and finally leave, coming back ten minutes later (if you're lucky) with another guy.
"Room?" you ask.
"Room?" the other guy replies. The two guys look at each other as if silently asking - "do we have rooms here?"

When you finally establish that they do indeed have rooms, a third guy comes in and takes out a Tome. This Tome is about 2,000 pages long and almost as many years old, and is disintegrating at the edges. He'll blow the dust off it and open it up - if you look back to the first page you can expect to see Mary and Joseph, who tried to get a room here when the place first opened.

The tome is approximately the size and weight of a Gutenberg Bible.

In this Tome, you painstakingly enter your full name, age, date of birth, father's name, passport number, visa number, duration of stay, nationality, father's nationality, three phone numbers, address, permanent address, email address, port of embarkation, port of disembarkation, previous destination, next destination, purpose of visit, flight number, exact time of check-in, number of children, number of children traveling with you, a local reference (if you have one), occupation, salary, marital status, name and age of spouse, number of bags, type of room requested and type of room granted. Each space given for this information is approximately 2 cemtimeters wide.

The second kind of hotel is the 'city hotel' - this one has about ten people in the lobby, all with specific jobs and all requiring baksheesh to do them. There are three to five clocks on the wall - one says "London", one "New York", one is for the capital of the country you are in, and any others are for completely random destinations (in Mumbai our hotel had clocks for Delhi, London, New York, Kandahar and Anchorage, Alaska). None of them tell the correct time in any of those destinations.

When you arrive, people are running around and screaming. The computer system is either down, was recently down, or is working but not running properly. A child is crying in the corner while her mother fights with the elevator boy, and at least one guy who should be working is standing around and smoking. All the couches and chairs are occupied, and you are pretty sure that none of the occupants are employees or guests.

"I have a booking," you say.
"Just a moment," says the officious brillantined man behind the counter, before he checks his coiffure in the mirrored wall behind you. He calls another guy, who calls a boy of about 8, who runs outside and returns five minutes later with a piece of paper that proves, apparently, that you do have a booking.
"Here is your key, and we provide a coupon for breakfast," says Mr. Brillantine.
"Thanks. When can I get my coupon, then?"
"I will give it to you now."
"Great."

Ten minutes later, he's run away to deal with some of the screaming people, and you are standing there waiting for your breakfast coupon.

"Breakfast coupon?"
"You want breakfast now?"
"No, we were told we would get the coupon for tomorrow."
"Oh yes."

Then that guy runs away and comes back five minutes later, having done nothing.
"OK now?" he asks.
"Well, actually no, we still need our breakfast coupon."
"Oh that! We will send it to your room with the boy."

The boy never comes, you go to breakfast the next day and nobody asks you for any coupon, nor did they seem to think that such a coupon ever existed.

The boy, meanwhile, stops by your room with your laundry, hoping for more baksheesh.

Medieval Cairo and Aswan

Kids in Aswan

Dried hibiscus for karkadeh - a local cool drink

Backstreets of Aswan

The Nile at Aswan

Nubian guy selling baskets in Aswan.

...I'll have to adjust that one so it's not skewed. Felucca boat on the Nile at sunset.

...but in this one, the building is skewed, not the photo.

Local woman shopping in the Khan el-Khalili


Skyline of Islamic Cairo

In An Antique Land

A few miscellaneous notes on Egypt:

I never realized there were so many ways to wear hijab (Muslim women's attire including a headscarf). Although many women in Cairo dress Western-style, the vast majority still cover their hair, and burqas are not uncommon, among young women and old.

However, there is a distinct undercurrent of Muslim women's fashion of which Westerners are mostly unaware. Rastafarian headscarves, denim mermaid-flare skirts, curve-hugging black rib turtlenecks and intricate embroidery are just some of the options available to traditional-minded women in Egypt. Some other ensembles I've seen include:

- purple heather tunic with patchwork purple, blue and white hippie skirt, complementary patterned headscarf and lots of chunky turquoise necklaces and low-slung belts
- gray pencil skirt with black leather boots to cover legs, black ribbed top and headscarf with black sunglasses
- tailored black pants with white blouse and headscarf, red lipstick and black-and-white houndstooth scarf - very Chanel!
- tiger-print French-cut pants with black tunic and gold coin belt with zebra-print scarf
- long denim skirt with rose colored top and white cotton scarf tied up African-style

All in all, Cairene women really know how to dress, and still keep with the tenets of their religion. Nevermind that I don't agree with their religion; it's great that they can incorporate their beliefs into the modern world.

I am also continuously amazed by what people will say to convince you to buy their goods or services. At the pillared hall in Saqqara, a would-be guide chased after us and when we declined to use his services, he shouted down the hall - "But I am not a guide; I am a tribal chief!" Riiight.

Another man "swore to his God in heaven" that the fair price for some cheap bellydancing armband that I bought as a small gift for someone was US $40 (about 180 Egyptian pounds) - pointing to the "fine handwork" and "high-quality gold plate". Nevermind the "Made in China" stamp, eh?

A tout in the Khan el-Khalili (huge tourist bazaar but also frequented by locals) came up to us and said "Hey, I am not sketchy dude. I just want to be BFF with my American friends. You want to come my papyrus shop?" Impressed with the colloquial English as we were...no thanks.

We also enjoyed the various signs around tourist sites. As you drive up to the Pyramids, you'll pass King Tut House of Perfumes, Cleopatra Nefertiti Restaurant, Sphinx Papyrus Institute (not to be confused with Sphinx School of Papyrus - both of which are souvenir shops) and a few others that we passed around Dahshur and later, in Aswan:


...just in case you wanted to buy something from Che Guevara while in Egypt.


...a simple spelling error, but still. Louts flower?


...not the best name for a camel safari business.

And of course, product differentiation is alive and well in Egypt. It's always important to make your product stand out with a unique name, logo and market niche. Copycats never survive, because they don't have a distinct image to set them apart. Hence:

Another thing I love about Egypt is the prevalence of cats. I am not sure why; Brendan remembers reading somewhere that Mohammed thought dogs were unclean but he liked cats, so cats are generally liked in Islamic cultures. I read as a kid that cats were sacred in ancient Egypt. Neither of us are sure how true these things are, but it can't be denied that Cairo is teeming with well-fed, tame and generally clean street cats. Being a cat lovers (we like dogs too!), this is wonderful, especially compared to the sad and often hungry cats of Taiwan.

The Most Famous Tourist Site On Earth

I really don't see the need to blog much commentary about this - I think the images are pretty darned self-explanatory.

One comment I will make, however, is that we weren't so much awed by the beauty or awe of the Pyramids, or even so much by their history (though when you think about that, it is quite moving - more time has elapsed between the building of the Pyramids and the reign of Cleopatra than has passed between Cleopatra's time and the present day). We were instead awed by being at - actually touching - the most famous monuments in the world. Among the most well-known and photographed things on Earth.

Oh, and even the people who will ostensibly drive you to the Pyramids are in on the "ride a horse" racket. Our guy didn't take us to the main entrance. That said, we had wanted to take horses anyway so it wasn't a big deal. It's merely important to remember to haggle them down to a reasonable price (80 Egyptian pounds per hour not including admission is fair. We paid a bit more but I was too tired to chop it down a few more pounds).

Breakfast on the Nile

Some photos and notes to start out, and a loooooong arsed post coming up in a few days.

Cairo does not deserve one of its two reputations.

I'm not speaking of the first - of being a city of history and invasion, of decay and rebuilding, as the 'Mother of the World'. It certainly does deserve that reputation, and I say this after having seen only two sections of it.

But there is another, parallel Cairo, one that's famous for hassles and touts, pollution and scams, sexism and terror. This reputation was never earned, it was merely bestowed with staggering naivete.

We drifted around Bombay's international airport - all spiffy and new and utterly unappreciated by us - in a fog at midnight, one, two. After a tousled sleep on the airplane, I awoke to pre-dawn Cairo glittering below me. By the time a 'rosy fingered dawn' (to be Homeric about it) was creasing the horizon, we were in a ramshackle taxi, speeding towards downtown Cairo. The taxi smelt of gasoline, which worried me, and the driver wanted to smoke, which worried me more. We dissuaded him and he assured us the oil smell was from spilling it on his clothes earlier.

Why he wanted to smoke in that state...you know, I prefer not to think about it.

At the airport, five guys took our one luggage trolley to the curb and then all of them demanded baksheesh. They didn't get any and I considered myself thoroughly introduced to Cairo. I don't want to know why these five guys were hanging out in the airport parking lot at 5am to begin with.

Our hotel, which seemed to advertise itself so flamboyantly as being in its own building, is actually on the 7th floor of a generic building. The hotel itself, however, is fine, complete with five or six chain-smoking men who watch cricket and wait until some work comes there way, a charming Art Deco lobby, a good enough restaurant and a thoroughly sketchy bar (four stools, a bookcase with maybe five bottles of liquor on it, three of which are whiskey, a mini-fridge, a dusty old guy, enough smoke to rip a new hole in the ozone...and some ceramic puppy figurines - I kid you not. It's called "The Polo Lounge").

After a heavenly breakfast of eggs, bread (naan meets pita, they fall in love and have a baby, which we ate), wonderful coffee, orange juice, fig jam and spready cheese, we explored downtown Cairo a bit, taking in lots of Belle Epoque architecture along the way. I'm pretty sure "Belle Epoque" is French for "19th century buildings put up by imperialist bastards".

We then took the Metro to Coptic Cairo, an enclosed area that is/was the stronghold of Cairo's indigenous Christians. We chose this over the museum, mosques and Pyramids because, being jetlagged, we just didn't want to deal with the tourist hassle of the other places. It was a good choice; only one person asked us for baksheesh and everyone else was very friendly. At the Hanging Church, a free church guide explained a lot for us (we donated to the charity box afterwards), the tourism police were helpful, and domestic tourists enjoyed chatting with us. The expensive Coptic Museum was also, frankly, amazing. I'm happy I took in something more digestible than the Big Mama Museum today.

The most amazing part about Coptic Cairo - beyond the mashrabiyya windows and ornately carved ceilings, was seeing the fusion of Pagan beliefs and Christian ones in their art and mythos. Sure, most of their stone and textilework looked strictly Byzantine, but then you'd come across Dionysus holding a cross, or Aphrodite with an ankh, inset with a "Jesus Fish" - proof that old beliefs don't die immediately in the face of change. They're syncretized, maybe they become a part of folklore, maybe they die slowly, but they never fall under the sword. Cultures blend into one another, they change; they may rise by force but they rarely disappear the same way.

All in all, I like Cairo. I like it a lot. Sure, it's polluted but it's fairly safe and friendly and so far, low-hassle. I also had the most amazing babaghanouj since my great grandma used to make it, and that is truly a priceless thing.

Pictures of Backwaters

I'll actually write more about Kerala later...frankly this part of the trip was extremely pleasant but too 'comfortable'; it was too easy to sit back and be tourists and not really engage or interact with our surroundings as much. Being one of a horde of tourists (The Golden Haired Horde I suppose) means that you're almost categorized into those niches before you get off the boat - it also means that you get lazy. It's so easy to read the paper together or talk to each other that we sometimes forget to actively seek out experiences around us.

So while I could write a lovely trip report all about Kerala, it would put you to sleep. I'll attempt a few notes on it later, though.

At the moment we're in Cairo and frankly, all my mental energy is here. It's hard to think about India when there's so much to think of right under my nose.