TRAVELING AROUND THE WORLD: Our Tales of Delights and Disasters

by Shelley Row

  Our next day was sunny but still cold. Yesim took us to more sites. Many of the major monuments are illustrations of Istanbul’s layers of history. Take, for example, the Kariye Museum, otherwise known as the Chora Church. This church was built in the 6th century in the byzantine era. Inside, the church is covered in mosaics of incredible detail. Tiny tiles of glass backed with gold and mini-squares of lapis are worked into scenes from Biblical times. Most of the depictions were of Mary’s history – her birth, childhood, marriage and motherhood. When the Ottomans took over, rather than destroying the mosaics, they covered them in plaster, which unintentionally preserved them.

  The Hagia Sophia, from the Greek words Holy Wisdom, has a similarly varied past. It is a 6th century building, also with a large central dome. So large, in fact, that its size was not exceeded for 1,000 years after it was built (that’s not a typo… 1,000 years). It started as a Greek Orthodox Church, was converted to a mosque, then into a Christian church, and the building is now a museum open to the public so as to protect it and the art inside. The space is large and open inside – like the Blue Mosque – with mosaics of Christ and Mary (that’s the Christian history) and Arabic calligraphy (from its mosque heritage).

  Across from the Hagia Sophia is an underground water reservoir. It’s an underground chamber of light and rhythm – column after column in all directions. It was constructed of used columns collected from monuments over the world that were rejects from the construction of the Hagia Sophia. It was an elegant reuse of materials. Two columns stand on used Medusa-head sculptures – one head sideways and the other upside down – just in case she could still turn workers to stone. You can’t be too careful when it comes to Medusa.

  In Istanbul, it felt like we straddled two worlds. On one hand, the rich mosaics of the Chora Church represented scenes from the Bible – many of which occur in Turkey. Ephesus, for example, is in Turkey, as is the town where Mary reportedly lived and is buried. Mary’s hometown is, of course, legend, but it is enough of a legend that three Popes have visited the site. I remember reading passages from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. It takes on new life being a short distance from this place immortalized in history. Similarly, European history is entwined here. The Ottoman Empire, headquartered in Constantinople, stretched to Austria, where we saw some of its history. Slowly, the vast family relationships began to link together. Only in Istanbul, though, have we seen the dramatic shifts in cultures over the centuries. All left their marks here and it is fascinating to unpeel the layers.

  Mike and I only glimpsed the layers of history in Istanbul, and we did not begin to be able to more fully appreciate the culture and the diversity of Turkey. That will have to be another visit. For now, all we can say to Istanbul is: “Excuse me. Hello. Thank you. Bye-bye.”

  Sunday, February 6, 2011

  Unexpected Cairo

  Who knew? Who knew that Tunisia would spark unrest in peaceful Egypt? Who knew that riots would escalate quickly in the major Egyptian cities? Who knew that for the first time in my life, I would lie in my well-appointed hotel room and listen to automatic weapon fire while tanks blocked the street in front of the hotel? Who knew we would leave this uncomfortable experience feeling blessed and grateful?

  We arrived in Cairo at 3:30 pm on January 28 with great expectations for our two week visit in Egypt. It was to be the highlight of our worldly travels. We were met at the airport by our guide, Mohamed Ali, tall, slender and smiling.

  Mohamed Ali was with Fly Well Travel, the Cairo operator for Egypt Magic, our tour company in the U.S. Perfect, I thought. Then, not perfect. Unfortunately, we arrived just as the Egyptian government’s crisis escalated. Mohamed Ali politely informed us that none of the foreigners were allowed to leave the airport at the moment. All the roads in and out were closed. Plus, the cellular network and Internet were taken offline to prevent the organizers from organizing. Okay, we thought, we’ll wait a bit and then we’ll be off to our hotel. I mean, really, how long could this persist? It was bound to be just a minor inconvenience. Hours later, a curfew was declared until 7 am the next morning. We prepared to spend our first evening in Egypt at the airport. This was not in our plan!

  And so, we sat, and walked, and napped as best we could. Planes continued to land, dumping more people into the airport. Thankfully, the local Egyptians were allowed to leave, which kept the airport from being completely filled. It became a study in contrasts. English (American, Australian and British) voices predominated, but there were many others as well. A Chinese tour group huddled in a corner propped against each other trying to sleep. Sheiks in flowing robes wandered the airport. Women with their heads covered with a hijab held sleepy toddlers. Children ran happily around until they collapsed in parents’ laps. All the chairs were filled by those like us who had arrived early in the afternoon. Late-comers lay on the floor, leaned against the wall, or sprawled wherever there was space.

  Once everyone realized that we would be stuck here for hours, there was a run on the food. The convenience store had a long line of people buying armloads of bottled water. The Burger King was a madhouse. People crammed the counter as employees threw burgers into bags that were passed to grabbing hands. At one point, hot airplane food was distributed, but it went fast and there was not enough for everyone. About 4 am, boxed food was given out. While beggars can’t be choosers – cold beef and gravy with cold rice was difficult to choke down in the wee hours of the morning. Amazingly, everyone remained patient and in good humor. The airport was filled with Egyptian guides who had met their clients, and now they were stuck with everyone else because of the curfew. Mohamed, like the others, was worried that we would leave with a bad impression. Mike and I assured him that we were fine and understood people’s desire to create a better life. Sometimes that’s messy business. He was intensely interested in showing off his beautiful country to us, and he wasn’t the only one. A lone airport employee, also named Mohamed, worked a coffee stand behind us. He was there all night by himself. He introduced himself as I purchased some juice, and said that he hoped we enjoyed our stay in his country. Nice. Everyone we met was like that. As it turned out, we would not get to see his country, except for glimpses of the pyramids and beautiful mosques as we crossed the Nile. We would cross the Nile four times going back and forth to the airport.

  After napping, me across a couple of chairs and Mike on top of our luggage, we woke cramped and exhausted. Thankfully, our tour guides transferred us to our hotel early in the morning after the curfew lifted. But another group, also with Fly Well Travel, was staying at a hotel in downtown Cairo and needed to be dropped off. With curtains pulled across the van windows, we were driven through the streets of Cairo (the erratic traffic is another story). Mohamed, who himself was exhausted from caring for us all night, was clearly agitated and nervous. We soon understood why. We drove past burned, overturned cars and lines of tanks. Debris from the previous night’s riots was strewn across the streets. At that moment, an eight-story burning building came into view – windows red with flames. It was the headquarters of the Democratic party – the party of Mubarak’s son. Approaching the others’ hotel, Mohamed, in strict, urgent tones, admonished us to stay in the van while he escorted the others inside their hotel. No problem.

  After a short, anxious stop at the hotel, we were taken along the Nile, past more burned trucks, to our hotel in Giza – about forty-five minutes from downtown. We briefly glimpsed some of the reasons for the unrest. The city was littered with garbage, people walked the streets, old cars and the occasional donkey-drawn cart rumbled past. Half-completed buildings (taxes rise when construction is complete) created an atmosphere of interest lost. Even our first view of the great pyramids couldn’t compete with this backdrop.

  As we discovered, our hotel was safe – comparatively. Tanks were parked outside and security gates limited access to guests. The hotel was lovely with a pool overlooked by the pyramids, which were a short walk away – a walk we would not take. Soft music was
playing – a stark contrast from tanks and guns (and, later, the roar of fighter jets). Our room had plush beds and a marble shower, a welcome sight. From that point, we slept and waited, not allowed to leave the hotel. The pyramids were closed. We could only sit by the pool, look at the pyramids, and try to be calm as we thought about what to do.

  In the end, the decision was clear but disappointing – leave Cairo as quickly as possible. That was easier said than done. Curfews were enacted each afternoon that prohibited all movement; the airport descended into chaos, and Internet service remained curtailed. Thankfully, cell service was reestablished allowing us to text and call. Plus, we had the cavalry on our side – Egypt Magic and Fly Well Travel staff. The staff with their supervisor, Amr Haggag, never left our side, not once, ever. They stayed overnight at the airport and at the hotel – dressed in their suits and ties. Keep in mind, these are local people with families in the affected areas. They left their wives, kids and parents to ensure the safety and comfort of strangers. One young man wiped a tear from his eye as he told of his frightened mother crying to him on the phone. She lived in one of the buildings threatened by looting. Despite these personal hardships, they checked on us several times a day to see if we were okay. Their manager called personally to ensure our satisfaction. We were more than satisfied. We can’t say enough good things about these people and this company. It went beyond good business practice, particularly as we talked to others stuck at the hotel who had not seen their tour company’s representative. Ironically, in talking with Amr, we learned that even though he is in the tourist industry specializing in U.S. and Australian visitors, he has never been to the U.S. because of the difficulty in obtaining a tourist visa. It takes years to get approval. How sad is that? Here is a young man, getting married this summer, who wants to take his new wife to the U.S. for a visit. Plus, it would help him provide better service to his American customers. But he isn’t allowed to visit the United States. I supposed he’s considered a threat. In spite of that, he gave his all to ensure our safety and comfort.

  The next day, we attempted to leave Egypt and continue to our next destination, Bangkok. The Fly Well staff, Ahmed, Mohamed and our driver, Hussein, escorted us to the airport for our flight to Bangkok aboard Egypt Air. On the drive, we glimpsed life in Cairo. We passed vendors selling oranges and bananas from their donkey-drawn carts and men on camels. Women in their robes stood in line outside tiny markets. I was captivated by the people and their dress, particularly the men in long tunics with scarves draped around their neck.

  It was smooth sailing on the roadways past rows of tanks. The curfew kept most cars off the road. Fortunately, tourists were allowed to pass through the streets accompanied by their guides. It was not, however, smooth sailing at the airport. Egypt Air was a mess – and that’s being gracious. At the last minute, they canceled all flights departing during the curfew period… or almost all flights. But they didn’t say which ones were going and which ones were not. All flights showed “canceled” on the screen, even when flights were called for boarding. As we were walking out the door, thinking all flights were canceled, they announced “immediate boarding” for the flight other tourists traveling with us were on. Their “canceled” flight ended up leaving three hours early! Mohamed literally ran with them through security to the gate and – with his help – they made their flight. We were not so lucky. We waited for hours for any information about the flight and were finally told it was canceled – really. It might go out the next morning. So, at 9:30 pm, we piled into the van for the drive back to the hotel – in the dark, during the curfew.

  All I can say is thank goodness for Hussein – a retired military colonel who now enjoys showing tourists around his country. Because of the curfew, major roads were blocked by tanks and military personnel so that Hussein had to navigate his way along city streets and through neighborhoods. By this time in Egypt, there had been a prison break, and weapons had been stolen from the police (not the military) who abandoned their posts. Looting of museums and homes was reported. The Egyptian government advised citizens to protect themselves and their neighborhoods. They did.

  Neighborhood groups patrolled local streets and guarded their homes from looters. We stopped at more than forty of these makeshift check points. It typically went like this: We drove a few yards down a local street until we came across a barricade. The barricade might be a row of soccer-ball sized rocks, an obstacle course of old logs and light poles, or just a group of men wielding bats, clubs or axes. I will confess that it was unnerving – each of the 40+ times. Mike and I sat quietly in the back, trying to look harmless and blonde.

  Hussein rolled down his window, coasted to a stop, and gave a local greeting to the person who appeared to be the leader. He handed them his military card, showing his rank as colonel and his service time of twenty-seven years with the military. Their reaction was immediate. They would salute, step back, and wave us through – like magic. And here’s the other thing that quickly became clear– all of these people were polite, gracious and apologetic. They were not violent or vigilantes. They were regular people trying to protect themselves and their families. Many looked at me and Mike and said they were sorry but they had to check our van to ensure the safety of their families. They hoped we understood. We did – and they welcomed us to their country. I felt like I was in a one-van parade as everyone smiled and waved to us and we waved back. The atmosphere was such a contradiction. On one hand, the anxiety level was palpable, and yet there were boys playing, and old men sitting around fires drinking coffee while the younger adults watched the road. It was like a block party for the men. I experienced an internal conflict as I simultaneously felt worried and welcomed. It is this contradiction that will be one of the enduring memories of this drive. And it was a long drive. It took two and a half hours to make the normally forty-five minute trip. We arrived back at the hotel at midnight.

  And we did it all again early the next morning – pulling out of the hotel the minute the curfew was lifted. Once again, chaos reigned at the airport. This time it was packed to overflowing with people and bags. We waited for our flight to be called – but to no avail. The rumor came that our flight was canceled – again – so we went to Plan B. The night before, my sister, Alison, found flights for us on Qatar Airlines to Bangkok, connecting through Doha. Qatar Airlines operated out of a different terminal with massive traffic congestion in between. Fly Well Travel staff were already in the other terminal and they found seats for us on the flight. Hussein drove us as close as he could, and Mohamed walked us through the streets to the terminal, weaving between traffic. We got the tickets – first class – very expensive – but it was a way out and, as it turned out, having first class seats was the only way we made our connection in Doha.

  Mohamed led us to the ticketing area, literally shoved our bags over the mobs of people onto the scanning belt, and checked us in. Keep in mind, this sea of people was almost entirely Middle Eastern – flowing robes, women’s heads covered by hajibs, and traditional dress for men of long robes and scarves. We were an anomaly. We started our journey through the packed terminal to passport control – another sea of people packed together, shoving their way toward a customs official. Gone were the organized, serpentine lines where signs politely advise you to wait behind the yellow line. Here we faced a mass of people all shoving their way to the booth. Some held hands full of passports that they passed over the top of the booth to the official. Mohamed told us to push our way forward and keep pushing. With that, he left us. My eyes teared watching our knight in shining armor leave. We would not have gotten out of the country without Mohamed, Hussein, Amhed and Amr. They literally kept us safe and got us out. Never have I experienced such effort and dedication.

  I should mention that as we sat for hours at the Cairo airport, we saw representatives from Great Britain, France, Australia, China, New Zealand and more. All were working to move their citizens out of Egypt. Notably absent was the U.S. We never – ever – saw a
nyone in the terminal from the U.S State Department.

  It merits repeating that every single Egyptian we met was kind, polite, gracious and helpful. They insisted that we feel welcome in their country, and we did in spite of the circumstances. Mike and I were the recipients of numerous simple kindnesses – like the gentlemen who wheeled a chair to me in the airport, or the waiter who quietly asked me to please come back to his country, or the ten-year-old boy who smiled through the windows of our bus and shouted, “Hello!” in his best English. How sad it is that these people are the ones most impacted by this situation. Service staff at the hotel told us that they make barely enough to live on with the tourist industry. As the tourists leave in droves, these kind and polite people are the ones bearing the brunt of the economic impact. While I won’t pretend to grasp the political and social issues facing this country, I will leave with a great respect for the working people and their desire for a better life. We will watch the developments in Egypt with a deeper interest. They deserve a government that is worthy of them. We look forward to returning to see the sights, experience the rich culture, and meet our friends, Amr, Mohamed, Ahmed and Hussein again. In the meantime, we hold them in our thoughts.