sphinxes and sleazebags
the pyramids: awesome. the sphinx: awesome.i just thought i'd get that out of the way before i started this post: whilst it ostensibly covers our time at giza, i'm not going to spend too longing drooling over the above monuments because they are totally, unequivocally fantastic, the kind of things that countless postcards, tv programmes, and asterix books can simply not prepare you for. looking over the dusty giza plain to the three great pyramids is a sight that ranks with any that i have ever seen: what is bizarre however is how cairo, this teeming city desperately grasping for space, has encroached on the site. you never see this on the postcards, but the layout of the area literally goes bustling giza, gate, the pyramids... there's no run off area, an acre or so to allow you to traverse centuries. the roads and buildings have gone as far as possible, before giving up the desert to these spectacular monuments.
the overnight journey from luxor was fine, although due to an administrative mix up we were in the wrong seats for the majority of the journey. still, we arrived refreshed enough and headed straight out with our guide mohammed. in comparison to khaled at karnak, mohammed was much more of a professional, pragmatic guide. his spiel was memorised, he knew where to take all the best snaps, down to all the stupid kissing the sphinx/ holding the pyramids poses. all in all a touch annoying, and bossy, but frankly his prattling was left in the background by the sites on display. check out the photos, but it is so close to england, you really have to get out to giza yourself at least once in your life.
if egypt's history was magnificent, it's present raises some objections. we checked into the windsor hotel after our tour, before heading out for a wander. a quick word about the windsor: it's where the brit colonials stayed when in cairo, and has managed to maintain that colonial charm. each room is quirkily different, the lift seems to predate victoria, and the dining room and bar take you back to the turn of the last century. great stuff, the babus certainly knew how to live.
i love to wander around a city, to walk through the spaces in between the tourist spots to try and get a feel for the real, breathing place. having watched england scrape past trinidad, in a coffee shop full of arabs supporting the trinidadians (ha!), vicki and i set out into cairo.
i don't want to turn this into a rant so i'll try and keep this as short as possible: people, not just men, in cairo have no respect for women at all, and this has to be in no small part down to islam. egypt is the land of the great queens, hatsheput, nefertiti et al: despite being dressed in a long, loose, skirt that scraped the floor, a tshirt, and a cardigan that covered her arms, vicks soon found her ass to be public property, as well as the sneaky scrapes and touches. we even had some enthusiastic arab bawling encouragement through a loudspeaker, and a freaky wide eyed kid who literally followed us for fifteen minutes until i threatened to slap him.
i had no idea what was going on until vicks told me: she took it in her stride, or at least as much as can be expected, but it could not have pissed me off more. the third world is full of repressed, horny, adolescents, and staring at white girls is de rigeur. it is only in arab, islamic, countries however that the gawping is allowed to turn into physical abuse in such a socially acceptable way. it may only be brushes and the occasional attempted pinch, but it is indicative of the social positioning of women in arab society, as objects with no right to object. if vicki had have turned round and kicked up a fuss she would have received no support from any of the hundred of natives: arab men like the position they occupy and arab women don't speak. if this had been a crowded street in india, the gropers would have attracted unimpressed looks from the matriacrhs in the crowd, and slunk away: here the men would have laughed and any women out would have kept their eyes to the ground. the arab matriarch only rules in her own home, and even then the rule only lasts until the men come home.
the other thing the whole bitter experience clarified was how right france was to ban the burkha: it doesn't matter how covered up you are, if you're not festooned in the billowing garment of islamic misogyny you're fair game.
cairo has got a reputation as the worst city in the world to be a female traveller, and i am amazed at just how justified it is. after half an hour shuffling round directly behind vicki to protect her bum, we gave up and called it a day. a city of sleazy arabs doesn't really need to be experienced, just condemned. it doesn't matter how many hyundais and ipods arrive, this place will always be backwards until the interpretation of islam is radically changed, more culturally primitive then it was bc.
posted by bicrom @ 10:56 pm
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