Journey to the Pyramids
Egypt. A culture in time-lag. Cairo. 22 million people who share one traffic light. The population of Australia in one city rush, never sleep. Just heaving and breeding. A civilisation that peaked with the pyramids. Cairo International Airport welcomes us warmly to nowhere. We could have landed in Trivanthapuram, Omsk, Margate. I’m a capsule, swallowed by the Egyptian Department of Antiquities. 7 days squeezed and digested by an intestinal system of tickets, tips, haggles and hassles.
Warm hopeful soulful rusty day market city sell you anything haggle our souls in children hands and your change 2 pound mafi mushkala. Camel and cart-horse traffic. Catch a black and white cab downtown sit in the back seat. Shut up. Don’t look ahead. Starchy hummus buffet breakfast in vacuous hotels that dive and wallow into yellow kitsch Brushed back grease hair waitrons smell mid-80s. Signage systems designed by the Tutankhamun’s brand consultants thirty centuries ago. My first drink in Cairo. A Virgin Cleopatra Cocktail. The bar is called The Bedouin. I am staying in the Oasis Hotel. I had just finished dinner in the hotel restaurant, Pyramisa. Do all Egyptian songs have the word Habbibi?