Ancient Civilizations – Cairo and Athens

The Origin of the Trip

We ended up traveling to Egypt and Greece through a rather strange routing that started with Brussels, Belgium, detoured to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, then, back towards Bucharest, Romania, Istanbul, Turkey and finally Malaga, Spain.  Thankfully, we didn’t end up on some Twilight Zone routed flight that took us to all those places, although we did go to all those places except Malaga.  Rather, this all started with an open-ended round trip ticket from Brussels to Atlanta that we didn’t use the back end of.  Instead, we continually repurposed the ticket to take us a new place we wanted to go, ending up with, say, a one way from Atlanta to Istanbul, and then a new round trip Istanbul – Atlanta, with us having no intention, of course, of returning to Istanbul in the time frame of the ticket.  As luck would have it, we played the game one too many times, well, in actuality we probably crossed that line a long time ago, and we failed to repurpose the ticket within the allowed time frame and finally Delta wouldn’t play anymore.  But, we did manage to get a lot of travel and life out of that one ticket!

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The actual goal of flying to Malaga was to then visit Gibraltar, an odd man hold out of the British Empire, and then hop a hydrofoil over to Tangier, Morocco or one of the two Spanish exclaves, Ceuta or Melilla, to stake claim to our seventh and final continent, Africa.  Granted, we could just fly Delta to Accra, Ghana, Dakar, Senegal, Johannesburg, South Africa, or Lagos or Abuja, Nigeria, but we didn’t feel quite up to that level of adventure so soon after the 30 day cruise.  And come to think of it, why isn’t Delta paying me a stipend for advertising consideration?

Looking at a Delta route map has been known before to get me in trouble, so I started looking for alternatives to Malaga, which has since become a seasonal destination for Delta.  We could have flown directly to Cairo but our original ticket value wouldn’t cover but maybe half of that journey, whereas we could fly into Athens, Greece for roughly the same value we had in the ticket all ready.  We also both wanted to visit Athens, so it seemed like a good idea.  We did realize that the direct JFK to Athens route was much more expensive since Delta’s only competition on the route is with Olympic Airlines out of Greece itself (competition really does drive pricing), but we could connect through Paris with Air France on the outbound and KLM through Amsterdam on the return.

The Outbound Flight and What Was Discovered In Paris

The flight to Paris was uneventful and I personally didn’t notice any new rulings or behaviors on the part of TSA in response to the Christmas time bomb attempt.  We would find ourselves hanging out in Charles De Gaulle for about six or so hours waiting for our flight to Athens, but since it was snowing and literally freezing in Paris that day, I have been to Paris twice in my life, both times in the winter, and never have I seen it so bitterly cold, neither of us had any desire to attempt the run into the city by train and then back again.  Instead, we contented ourselves with the glamorous Air France lounge which had hot food on offer along with free self-pour liquors and beer.

It was while in the Air France lounge that I made a truly shocking and horrifying discovery however.  The International Herald Tribune had an article about the new Diagnostic Standards Manual, the handbook of psychiatric illnesses, that I read initially with some mild level of interest.  I was quickly riveted, and not in a good way though, by the discovery that currently psychiatrists are diagnosing and treating, read heavily sedating, children who exhibit ill-behavior, typically starting around the age of 2, as bipolar!  So now we have medicalized what I have always heard referred to as the “terrible twos” and are giving incredibly powerful medications, with potentially long term negative consequences, to infants as an outcome of the current vogue for not disciplining children.  And who exactly is this supposed to serve?  I can’t see how it can benefit children who are exposed to medications, the mechanisms of which are rarely understood, that have strong sedative effects and in many cases long term negative motor skill and control side effects, to say nothing of being a substitute for parental attention and engagement.  I can see how it can benefit parents in the short-term by drugging otherwise unruly children into a semblance of control without the parent actually having to parent their children, meaning they might have to be the “bad guy” who says no, a task parents don’t seem to have the stomach for after farming the child out all day to day care, instead preferring their limited time with their children to be all about endlessly saying yes.  I don’t see society benefiting from a generation of undisciplined brats who grow up with the belief that the answer should always be yes, who have no concept of self-restraint and control, and who are taught that every bump or negative sensation in life is a medical problem with a pharmaceutical solution.  I can imagine, but I would seriously like to believe better of these groups, that psychiatrists, psychologists, pharmacists, and drug companies could benefit from increased fees for services and products, but in the long run this trend seems dire and seriously misguided to me.  But wait, it gets better!

Instead of condemning this trend and tightening the criteria for true bipolar disorder cases, which as I understand it are diagnosed at the EARLIEST in teenagers, the DSM now proposes a new “disease” called “temper dysregulation disorder with dysphoria.”  So, let’s break apart the medical-eze here and find out what this really means in plain language.  Dysregulation means a failure to regulate, literally, so what we have is a failure to regulate, or control, one’s temper, which we have now elevated to a medical sounding condition by labeling it a “disorder.”  Dysphoria literally means “to be unhappy.”  So what we have here, now qualified as a medical condition, are children as young as two who are failing to control their temper and who are unhappy.  Hmmm.  I could swear that when I was a child this “condition” was known as having a temper tantrum and it was treated with spanking butts, not with a pill.  I am literally stunned that society’s decision to outlaw the disciplining of children has led medical professionals to codify and encourage treating a basic part of child rearing, temper control and regulation, overcoming the id and developing an ego and superego to put it into Freudian terms, is now proposed to be replaced by pills.  I find something massively wrong with a society that sees this as acceptable and appropriate.  Since time began, disciplining children and guiding them into socially acceptable modes of behavior was a large part of what parents signed up for when they had children.  Granted, throughout history, the ideas of how children should be disciplined and the severity thereof have modified and swung about, and granted a very small percentage of adults have physically abused and even killed children in the name of discipline, but never has mankind witnessed the wholesale abrogation of the parental responsibility to control and discipline their children under the aegis of a medical diagnosis.  Where does it end?  Do children who refuse to eat their vegetables get a new diagnosis and pill?  What happens when Junior is 30 and hasn’t learned that he doesn’t always get his way in the world?  More pills or do we treat these products of poor parenting as criminals and lock them up at even greater expense to us all?  It seems to me that a good hard spanking starts to look incredibly attractive and cost effective to boot.  Personally, I will donate my time to deliver said spankings free of charge as a public service!  Seriously people, growing up is about learning limits and controls and to throw that away in favor of pills is asinine.  And, to top it off, doctors promoting the diagnosis of these “medical” conditions in children are serving as consultants and speakers at conferences sponsored by the very pharmaceutical companies that make and market the drugs used to “treat.”  Pharmaceuticals have a place, granted, but let’s not, PLEASE, sell out our societal and parental responsibilities in favor of the seemingly quick and easy fix of a pill.  If you don’t have the stomach for the “behavioral solutions to behavioral, as opposed to truly psychiatric, problems” then don’t have a child.

Other than that, I found Charles De Gaulle to be as charming as an airport can be!  I dearly love being in an airport where a real departure announcement goes as follows: “Air France Flight 123, non-stop service to Niamey with continuing service to Ouagadougou, is now ready for boarding at gate D15.”  Yes, those are real places that Air France serves and I wait while those who need to consult a atlas or Google Maps to confirm and place them.

Flying With Air France

The actual experience of flying with Air France was less than stellar and caused me to have acute withdrawal symptoms given the standard of expectation set by Delta’s domestic first or business class services.  At the gate, Tim and I are used to preferential boarding, giving us prime access to overhead storage and to have a cocktail in hand while the rest of the plane boards.  With Air France, the gate simply opened and it was a full on cattle call rush to board.  They didn’t even attempt to regulate the flow by calling rows, much less recognizing their premium passengers or frequent flyers.

The shocks continued once we reached our assigned seats, which while in the front of the plane, were standard pitch and width Airbus coach seats in a 3-3 configuration, but with the center seat unoccupied by a person but instead blocked by a “table” that we thankfully could fold up and out of the way.  But for the difference in fare for an intra-Europe flight, the seating was inconsistent with expectation or with experience of Delta domestic flights.

Then there was the lovely “meal” service which consisted of something called “Indian” rice (I have eaten a great deal of Indian food and this wasn’t it) with cheese, potato, green beans, and eggplant.  Suffice it to say that it was thoroughly inedible.  In addition, it was served on a plastic tray and plastic utensils with the too hot to touch foil still over the entrée!  Meanwhile, my elbows were resting on my jacket since no one bothered to ask if they could hang it in the closet, again a standard Delta First Class behavior.  When flying Delta, even just between Atlanta and Los Angeles, meal service comes on china, with real flatware and glassware, along with linen.  Perhaps needless to say, hot foil is nowhere in sight.  Honestly, I expected a great deal more from the French and I didn’t get it.  This seems to be the standard of behavior for Air France on intra-European flights and I honestly think that next time I would be seriously tempted to use another Sky Team partner instead of Air France.  Perhaps CZA Czech airlines can do better.  They certainly couldn’t do much worse.

Arrival in Athens

But in the end we did arrive in Athens.  It was late at night, close to 11pm, and our flight on to Cairo would not leave until close to noon the following day.  We were booked into the new Sofitel at the new Athens airport.  We would find that much in Athens is new, having been built or upgraded for the 2004 Olympic Games.

The airport was gleaming and the Sofitel ranks as one of the nicest hotels I have ever stayed in, and given my record of world-class hotels, this means something!  My favorite feature of the room was the shower, which was literally half the entire bathroom and featured a shower head in the ceiling so showering was like being in a warm rain somewhere tropical.  Divine!  The beds were very comfortable, always important in a hotel room, and having suffered through the EconoLodge in Escanaba, Michigan, and a Best Western in Miles City, Montana, I am sensitive to these things!  The room was furnished entirely in warm woods with inlay throughout, so no cold but utilitarian plastic.  Also, the toilet was in its own separate closet, always a bonus when traveling with someone else, meaning that the literal bathroom is free even if the literal water-closet is occupied.  The hotel is truly across the street from the airport, simply walk out the arrival area sliding doors, cross the airport drive, and you are under the wine covered walkways of the hotel.  Total time from airport to hotel, or vice versa for an early morning flight, is less than 3 minutes.  If you ever find yourself transiting Athens, I highly recommend it!!  And again, where is my promotional consideration fee from the Accor Corporation, and I don’t want vouchers for Motel 6 out of it!

Flying to Egypt on Egypt Air

Flying Egypt Air was interesting in that they are considerably more relaxed about some things than your typical American or European carrier.  While I don’t pay much attention to them anymore, I can pretty much mouth all the words to the standard safety video or demonstration that is an ever present feature of any flight these days.  Tim and I realized once we were up in the air that Egypt Air just didn’t bother with that.  You just took off.  And then there was the flight attendant who declared herself too ill to work, but being at 35,000 feet going home wasn’t much of an option, so she simply plunked herself in the First Class seat in front of me and reclined, which annoyed me since, like Air France, First Class on Egypt Air consisted of standard pitch seats, although they were slightly wider with no annoying table in the middle.  The meal service was equally dismal and again, we had to hold our own jackets during the flight.  Yes, it is OK, you can call me a prima donna if you want, but bear in mind that we did pay a premium for what should have been superior seats and attention.

Initial Impressions of Cairo

The official descent into Cairo begins over Alexandria (again I wait while atlases are consulted) and Cairo from the air is a very dusty and brown city, albeit a city of enormous proportions.  With 10 million people in the city limits and over 17 million in the metro area, you would expect it to be large.  Cairo has been endowed with large numbers of enormous concrete buildings of Soviet design and construction, a hold-over from the days when Egypt played off the Soviets and the Americans against each other and from the days even farther back when Egypt and Syria joined together in a short-lived experiment in Arab Socialist unity.  Every once in a great while there would be some random splashes of color, the occasional painted building perhaps, but much more likely to be the omnipresent headscarves worn by the women and girls.  Modesty doesn’t have to be boring depending on just how orthodox, generally translated as how poor, one happens to be.

The Egypt Air terminal of the Cairo airport is very new, very modern, and very clean.  Immigration and customs was a simple matter of visiting one of the three or four bank offices located immediately before the Immigration counters, purchasing one’s visa from the bank for $15, and then heading through the line where it required two officers to process you through.  One stuck the self-adhesive visa in your passport and the other typed in your information.  A third would check your passport again on the way out, even though he was positioned no more than 10 feet from the point at which the visa was applied.  The civil service in Egypt is incredibly bloated, easily the principle employer in the country, and probably because of that, incredibly inefficient and barely pays a living wage.

Driving to the Semiramis Intercontinental

Having heard interesting stories of the marketing behavior of Cairo airport taxi drivers (your hotel is closed/full, I know a better one instead, etc), we had pre-booked a driver through ViaTour, a supposedly reputable United Kingdom-based company.  Our driver and guide, Ibrahim, did meet us, although I confess I didn’t know why we needed a guide for the drive from the airport per se.  Ibrahim, aside from pointing out the residence compound of General Mubarrak, the United States-supported long-time military dictator of Egypt, seemed primarily interested in ensuring that we knew about the services of his employer, South Sinai Travel, the local contractor for ViaTour, and in repeatedly attempting to obtain copies of our return airline tickets to “confirm” our departure time.  I felt pretty strongly that he didn’t need those, and they were in the back of the van anyway, inaccessible at the time.  We sort of figured that he should pick us up for the return at whatever time we wanted, and if that meant we sat in the Egypt Air lounge for longer than was really required, that should be our business.  Once it was clear that we weren’t giving up the tickets, Ibrahim, left the van at some seemingly random intersection, claiming he had to meet another party at the airport.  I was curious as to what vehicle he intended to use to meet them, but didn’t bother to ask.

We were booked into the Intercontinental Semiramis, which is located on the Nile Corniche road, meaning immediately on the banks of the Nile itself.  The hotel had elaborate security, which we would come to recognize as standard for all western hotels in the city as well as all sites likely to be heavily visited by tourists.  Make no mistake, tourism to the ancient monuments and sites of the Nile Valley as well as to the beach resorts of the Red Sea on the Sinai Peninsula and the east coast of the country are big business.  So big in fact that they are one of the top earners for Egypt as a nation, so anything that might disrupt this traffic is heavily suppressed.  The tourist police require all motor vehicles from taxis to full on tour buses to stop outside a barricade, turn off the engine, open all trunks and luggage storage compartments for inspection by armed tourist police and bomb sniffing dogs.  The actual entrance to the hotel is through metal detectors for all people and x-ray scanners for all bags.  There have been isolated, but serious, incidents of violence directed at foreign tourists in Egypt, including fatal shootings at the pyramids themselves, orchestrated not as a show of anti-Western sentiment as much as an attempt to weaken the tourism sector, and thus destabilizing the economy and the military dictatorship with it.  During our stay however, we would encounter nothing remotely resembling physical violence or even the suggestion of it.

Inside the Semiramis Intercontinental

The hotel was predictably luxurious and well appointed.  Our room featured a balcony overlooking the Nile which was spectacular at sunset or sunrise, both events easily discerned by the call of the muezzin, calling the faithful to prayer (at sunrise, midday, around 3pm, at sunset, and before bedtime around 9pm or so).  Had we been so inclined to join in, the proper direction of prayer, toward the Kabaa in Mecca, was easily known as there was a convenient sticker on the chest of drawers, right next to the flat screen television, pointing the way.

The lobby was a veritable parade of the well-healed from around the Arab world and it gave me the opportunity to confirm what I already knew, which was that the Arab, much less the Muslim, world is far from homogeneous.  The style of dress differed widely from Egyptian businessmen in western suits to other locals in the long flowing shirts that reach the knees over the billowing pants, an outfit called galabyas, to the range of headdresses and robes worn by the men of the Arabian Peninsula.  Much can be discerned about men’s origins based on their specific styles of traditional dress if one knows how to interpret it.  And of course the women ranged from plain western wear to simple hijab (head coverings, usually colorful scarves) to chador, to even more elaborate veilings generally known as niqābs to full burqas, the later being quite unusual in Egypt.  A life in purdah, or seclusion, may be the idealized goal of many Muslim women, but in Egypt at least, economic reality doesn’t allow the privilege for many.  The styles of achieving hijab vary widely by region and again, degree of orthodoxy, strongly correlated in Egypt, as in the United States among nominal Christians, with poverty breeding more orthodox interpretations than is common among the wealthy.  Women of the Arabian Gulf states do not conform to this generalization however, their garments being mostly a function of Bedouin traditions instead of being directly linked to religious orthodoxy per se.  But I will discuss that in more nauseating detail later on.

Reading Arabic

One of the first things we needed to adjust to in Egypt, helpful even in locating one’s hotel room by number, was the numbering system itself.  Perhaps ironically, the West uses what are known as Arab numerals (try doing mathematics in Roman numerals with no zero) and as is well known they look like this: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.  However, in actual practice in Arab countries, the numbering system in use is the Eastern Arab system, known in Arab countries as Indian, or Hindi, numbers but which derived their written form in what is now Iraq.  None of that really matters.  Instead what matters is that one become somewhat quickly conversant with the following characters, greatly enlarged to show the detail required to distinguish between 2 and 3, if one has any hope of locating businesses by street address, buying candy or most anything else with a listed fixed price, or as I said, your room number on the hotel room door.  The following are the same numbers as listed above, starting with zero and ending with nine, separated as is the Arab and hence Portuguese and Brazilian custom, by periods not commas.  Decimal places are held by commas in these systems, periods serve the purpose of demarcating thousands places, accomplished by many with commas.  You adjust.  Once again, zero through nine is: ٠.١.٢.٣.٤.٥.٦.٧.٨.٩  Remember this when in Egypt or other Arab lands (note, Turkey is populated by TURKS not Arabs, and the language is Turkish not Arabic, and the script is modified Roman not Arabic).

Are You Brothers?

At the hotel check-in counter is where would first encounter the three most common questions we would be asked in Egypt.  Are you married?  Do you have children?  Are you brothers?  In answering no to these questions, we presented an unfathomable conundrum to an Egyptian audience.  The idea, the concept, of being our age and unmarried and without children simply doesn’t exist in Egyptian life or apparently the Egyptian consciousness.  The goal of life is marriage and children so how could we have failed in this?  The only conceivable idea behind our traveling together was that we were brothers or perhaps in business together.  Apparently we resemble each other enough for Egyptians to easily believe that we could be brothers and responding yes to the question would ultimately prove easier.

When I booked the room at the Intercontinental on-line, the only non-smoking room available featured one king bed.  This didn’t seem to be a problem for us as that is what we sleep in at home and I honestly thought nothing else of it.  However, our check-in clerk, Shady (pronounced SHAH-dee) couldn’t quite wrap his head around this and insisted on thinking that a mistake had been made.  He searched hotel inventory and found what he described as a room with two queen beds, still with the Nile view, and would that be OK?  Since he didn’t mention that it was a smoking room, it was fine.  This didn’t seem like the time or place to attempt to strike a blow for gay rights and that really isn’t particular to it being Egypt or it being a predominantly Muslim nation.  The reality is that Tim and I are just as condemned by many so-called Christians as we are by any Muslim and the further reality is that in certain parts of the United States, I simply am accustomed to booking a room with two beds of any size to avoid uncomfortable moments at check-in counters in places ranging from Montana, to Oklahoma, to Kentucky, to rural California.  Sometimes it is just easier to not have to pry people’s minds open when they are so perpetually slammed shut and some places in this country I don’t place above the possibility of physical violence from drunken shit kickers on a Saturday night.

Anyhow, the room was great, if a bit smoky, but you get used to that in Egypt eventually.  Our next order of business was to decide where to eat dinner.  We had read of a very popular local place that served kebabs, skewered and grilled meat, and it was located on a street only a couple of blocks away.  We would come in time to be most fond of “kofta” which is ground meat formed into a small sausage shape on the skewer and grilled.

Street Walking in Cairo

To be honest, I never really grabbed on to the navigation of Cairo, although that was something that Tim did quite well.  Immediately to the rear of our hotel was the street with the American embassy on it.  That street is closed to traffic and even foot traffic is monitored by armed guards 24/7.  But the street we were headed to was just a bit beyond that.  What wasn’t clear to us, probably because we didn’t really check it closely, was the scale of the map and therefore the actual distance.  In the more heavily touristy parts of Cairo, obvious tourists make “friends” quickly, usually someone whose store is celebrating with 20% off everything because their sister is getting married tomorrow.  You quickly realize a couple of things about this:  there is no sale, demographically there can’t be that many girls getting married on any one day, every day, and inevitably, the offer of a business card means you have to go to the store to get the card.  In other words, it is a trap.  I give credit for human ingenuity and recognize economic disparity and necessity, but at some point it becomes crushingly annoying to be constantly hit up this way.  So imagine our surprise that during the entire 30+ minute walk to finally find this restaurant that there were no come-ons, no attempts to divert us into stores, etc.  The reason was simple: we had left the tourist path and were on a street with nothing to offer tourists, instead being filled with stores and restaurants that really only existed to serve locals.  The restaurant that we ate at, which was divinely delicious thank you, with an incredibly exhaustive menu to boot, was a very local place as well, heavily populated with couples and their children, as well as some obviously dating or more likely recently married young couples.  We were the only non-Egyptians in the place and while I would say that we were the object of some mild degree of curiosity, we certainly were not objects of hostility or undue attention.  This would remain true throughout our stay as we enjoyed our usual habit of leaving the defined areas for tourists and wandering about to local restaurants and even riding the Cairo subway, something that American tourists on a package deal simply do not do.

In the morning it was even clearer that Cairo is a place of frenetic energy with millions on the move and on the hustle to try to make a living and to keep the lives of themselves and their family moving on some trajectory.  I don’t think there is a well established state welfare system in Egypt, but there is a system of social welfare that arises from the commandments of the Quran, more readily followed than similar commandments of the Christian Bible, to provide assistance to the poor and especially to widows.  Americans, including American families, are all too ready to kick Grandma to the curb or shut her up in a facility, which no matter much we reassure ourselves is “nice” and “pretty” is still a dumping ground no matter what we tell ourselves.  The elderly are cared for in Egypt by family, but in those rare cases in which family are dead or otherwise not available, the care of widows falls to the random man in the street who buys the packets of nose tissue that widows traditionally sell while seated on the sidewalk, fully covered, of course, for modesty.  You will see quite a number of these women and all of them sell the tissue.  I don’t know where they get it to sell it, but there it is.

Why tissue you ask?  Ah, simple!  If you go to Cairo you too will blow your nose a great deal because it is one of the most heavily polluted cities on the planet.  Millions of cars, mostly at least 10 years old and many much older Soviet Ladas, spew tons upon tons of unconverted and leaded fumes into the sky every day.  In Cairo, you can literally see the air and it won’t ever be blue, instead it will be an orange color, and not just at sunset.  This amount of airborne pollution coupled with a desert environment where it rarely, if ever, rains to wash it out of the air leaves you eventually with nasal mucus that is black in color.  Not surprisingly, respiratory disease rates for such lovelies such as asthma, chronic bronchitis, emphysema, and even lung cancer are astronomically high, at truly epidemic levels.

None of this is helped by the chronic smoking in Cairo.  There is rarely, if ever, even the concept of a non-smoking section anywhere.  The only place I observed actual restraint was on subways, but certainly no where else.  Restaurants are presumed to be all smoking sections as is most everywhere else you will go.  If you find cigarette smoke annoying, Cairo probably isn’t the place for you.

But not to worry too much, given the rates of respiratory disease you probably won’t live long enough for tobacco associated disease to kill you.  And besides, the odds that you will die crossing the road are even greater!  It seems that most everywhere has worse traffic that what Americans are used to, and yet, as was true in Brazil or Romania, I have to say that I never witnessed an actual accident, although I have no idea why not.  There are occasionally traffic lights, which serve as a suggestion to stop or yield, but no one takes those too seriously.  There are the occasional cross-hatched crosswalks as well, but those are merely some decorative design as far as Cairo drivers are concerned.  The only certain time that drivers stop is for actual barricaded streets or for gun toting security officers who decide to direct traffic every now and then.  The proximity of the American embassy meant that we had gun toting guys who would stop traffic fairly routinely, so we managed a standard path that crossed the most major of streets with these guards.  This didn’t always result in the shortest path, but easily the safer.

Of course you won’t always be near these opportunities so you have to follow the lead of the locals.  You wait for traffic to mostly stop due to its own mass, and then you strike out into traffic, catching drivers’ eyes whenever you can to assure each other you know of the other’s presence, and keep moving, never stall or stop, for that way lies danger.  Be confident and stride purposely.  They will avoid you and they have lots of practice.  When all else fails, throw yourself on the mercy of kind strangers like the local niqab wearing woman who gestured for us to follow her across the feeder roads, 6 lanes wide, into Sadat Square.  She kindly shepherded us across multiple lanes and once the sidewalk was safely reached, waved good-bye.  Of course no words were spoken, and it would have highly improper to even attempt to shake hands with an unrelated woman, but we yelled our thanks and presumed that she would understand that we were grateful.

Dare I? Women and Islam

Since we were helped by a Muslim woman, I suppose it now becomes necessary to venture into the focal point of so much of the assumption and fray that flies about whenever Islam is mentioned, namely, the position of women in Islamic society.  Clearly, this is a huge topic area and one that I can’t reasonably treat with authority.  It is also, however, a topic area that I have read a great deal about for one reason and another.  Finally, it is also a topic area that engenders enormous amounts of emotion to the point that it usually isn’t possible to even begin to discuss it rationally since emotion based ideas and misconceptions are practically impossible to dislodge with reason and rationality.  But what the hell, it is my blog after all.

And in the interest of full disclosure I should mention that in the highly unlikely event that I should have to choose a major world religion to be an adherent of, it would be Islam.  My reasoning for that is because I view Islam to be the major world religion that asks the least and not coincidentally the most reasonable, actions from its adherents and I am inclined to believe that at least 3 of the 5 pillars of Islam are appropriate anyway.  I also believe that Islam, as the youngest of the major world religions, is the least polluted with political bullshit, interpretation, misinterpretation, and deliberate manipulation.  To say that it is the LEAST in these respects is not to say that such issues are absent, just in less quantity than in other major world faiths.

By the way, for sake of clarity, The Five Pillars of Islam [Arabic: أركان الإسلام (read right to left)] is the term given to the five duties incumbent on every Muslim. These duties are: Shahadah (profession of faith), Salat (prayers), Zakat (giving of alms), Sawm (fasting, specifically during Ramadan) and Hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca).  These five practices are essential to Muslims.  And that’s it.  Only half of the Commandments Christians have (which they generally ignore) and only 8/10ths of one percent of the 613 rules of Judaism (and who could know much less obey all that!).

The most common idea, I think, is that the Quran requires a certain specific form of dress for women and that simply isn’t true.  The Quran requires modesty of dress for BOTH men and women, and the reality is that you won’t see Muslim men running about in sleeveless t-shirts and shorts anymore than you will see Muslim women in bikinis.  Muslim MEN are encouraged to wear head coverings as well, especially when at prayer.  The specifics of how modesty in dress is achieved vary widely throughout the Muslim world and are driven primarily by local cultural imperatives as opposed to a central Islamic proscription.  There are no equivalents of McCall’s patterns for burqas in the Quran.

It is also important to realize that the treatment and isolation of women is actually intended for their protection, not their enslavement.  The Quran specifically treasures women and seeks to protect them from the ravages of men, which the Quran is very clear are not to be implicitly trusted.

The ways in which these instructions are interpreted varies widely and again is usually heavily influenced by tribal, ethnic, and even political imperatives, in much the same way that instructions about the behavior of Christian and Jewish women are interpreted in widely divergent ways.  People are very fond of pointing out some of the more rigid restrictions of Saudi Arabia and the former Afghanistan as well as Iran both without any real understanding of what those rules actually are as opposed to what sensational news stories tell us in the West and without realizing that Saudi and Iranian or Afghan restrictions are the result of unique interpretations and legal rulings based, again, on prevailing local custom and political rationale.  For example, the Taliban didn’t create the burqa, it was historically in local use for centuries, but for political reasons they mandated its use.  Iran didn’t invent chador, but since the main political power base for the Islamic government is found among the more traditionally orthodox urban and rural poor, who favored the chador long before the 1979 revolution, and who were deeply religiously offended by the shah’s attempts to ban it, it makes political hay to mandate its use and then to very laxly enforce it in the wealthy suburbs.  Most Saudi rules, and they are changing even now, come from a deep and ancient Bedouin tradition.  In fact, many of the dress rules for men and women actually make great sense for a desert dwelling and nomadic peoples.  That is not to say that there are not abuses in any system of morality, including in the prevailing Western ones, but to take sensational examples as statements of the whole is misleading and dishonest.

The reality remains that most observant Muslim women would be shamed and horrified to be forced to appear in public in the way Western women do.  Western women are assumed to be little more than whores because they so brazenly show their bodies.  Many people feel strongly that Western women are the more oppressed because they are so openly and publicly judged based on breast and hip size along with facial beauty and body weight.  Put it this way: bulimia and anorexia really are not problems in traditional Muslim societies.  Women are respected as the heads of households who hold all authority over the family wealth.  Men might earn money outside the home, but they surrender all of it to their wives.  Women can and do own property in their own right and in most societies divorce is an option and domestic violence is no more or less common than among Westerners.  The educational achievement of most Muslim women, especially in the sciences and mathematics, far outstrips the West, even in Saudi Arabia.  Professional careers are not at all a rarity in such societies for women, including careers in medicine and even commercial airline flight as PILOTS, despite what CNN might have told you.  Over 40% of the Iranian legislature, for example, is female, far greater participation in the highest levels of public life than is achieved in the United States.

Ultimately for those who dislike Islam for whatever reason(s) nothing I say, no amount of brute factual evidence, not even the voices of Islamic women themselves, will change minds set in hatred and judgment.  I realize that.  Nor am I going to serve as an apologist for the isolated cases of bigotry and abuse that have occurred or will occur again in the future.  What I do ask of the world is that it consider issues in a more holistic and realistic sense, based on majority situations and realities, not on the sensationalized sound bites we are feed on 24 hour cable news networks.

As a countering point of view, I would like to mention some standard practices that don’t get questioned on CNN.  How does the Sport’s Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, or the persistence of beauty pageants, even for children as young as 3 or 4, demonstrate our enlightened view of women in the West?  How is it that we have made a size zero a more desirable goal for a young woman instead of an IQ of 200?  Why is it that physical beauty remains the measure of young women a la the cheerleading squad instead of ability to compete in the academic decathlon?  How do we further the future of young women in this country by equipping our children with camera phones used to photograph and then disseminate images of a 16 year old girl’s breasts taken on a school bus during a school sponsored event?  I don’t think it unreasonable to assert that despite our claims to the contrary, women in the West have a long way to go in many areas of respect and achievement to even equal their Muslim sisters.

To be more specific about dress and behavior restrictions though, let us consider the following examples.  Practically every Christian denomination bans the active participation of women in the ministry, despite gospels of the Bible itself having been attributed to women.  I have personally heard the head of the national Baptist convention openly scoff at even the idea or suggestion of equality for women.  Traditionally observant Catholic women still cover their hair when going to Mass and if a woman wants to enter St. Peter’s in Rome she must not wear pants, must not show her arms, and must cover her hair, in essence, she must wear hijab, and practically must be in chador.  Hijab in fact comes from a traditionally Jewish head covering for women.

Has anyone checked out the fashions and lifestyles of Amish or Mennonite women lately?  I don’t think you could call them much more liberal than the rules for most observant Muslim women.  Pentecostal women are banned from wearing pants, from wearing makeup of any kind, from speaking out against their husbands on any matter, and are forbidden to cut their hair.  Hassidic Jewish women are required to shave their heads and wear wigs when it comes to hair, and even those wigs are generally required to be kept covered.  And when was the last time you met a professional Hassidic woman out in the community instead of saddled with 13 children and homebound?

All these measures of modesty taken in the name of one God or another, and yet only in the case of Islamic proscriptions and norms do we all get our collective panties in a bunch.  That screams double standard to me and screams even more loudly of bias, prejudice, and a race to judgment without any attempt to be reasoned, balanced, or to achieve understanding without judgment.  When those who sound clarion calls about the perceived injustices against Muslim women turn their eyes to even some of the above equal or even harsher restrictions (count for me please the number of Morman female doctors, lawyers, and members of Congress please), I have to discount most of it as misguided hatred without adequate attempts to rationally consider the reality of both Islamic, but also Christian and Jewish modes of life for women.

The Pyramids at Giza, Saqqara, and Memphis By Way of A Papyrus Museum

In case you were wondering, these are the sorts of things I think about while viewing the Pyramids at Giza for example.  We had engaged a driver, by the name of Safwat, to take us to Giza and some other sights for our second day in Egypt.  Mysteriously, our first stop was a so-called papyrus “museum” in which all the display were mysteriously for sale contrary to the behavior of most museums in the world.  Nor was this the only papyrus museum in the area.  I could smell a tourist trap in a second but I also reasoned that given the disparity of relative wealth we represented and that since these folks were at least working hard to make a living instead of stealing, I couldn’t fault them too much.  We did protest strongly though when Safwat attempted to pawn us off on someone with a camel, claiming it was the only way to enter the Pyramids, which I knew to be a lie.  Lies and deceit start to irritate me, and even had I been inclined to want to ride a camel, which I wasn’t, I would do it on my terms and when it was my idea.  Eventually Safwat took us up to the payment station for the pyramids which gets you into the grounds where you start to run the gauntlet of guides, carriage drivers and so forth.  Safwat, without my being able to intercept him, sold us out to one such guide who transferred us on to yet another who drove a carriage.  I was appalled at the abuse this horse took from the driver’s incessant flogging but didn’t have the Arabic to protest it.  The best thing I can say for him is that he managed to get us around the pyramids and down to the Sphinx without turning us over, but had I been that horse, I would have bitten and kicked him to death for his treatment.  As a side note, the Western tradition of drying alfalfa and baling it doesn’t seem to exist in Egypt.  Instead, alfalfa fields are harvested by hand and the fresh cut product is sold from carts and stalls to drivers to be fed immediately.

So much has been written by people much more authoritative and informed than myself about the Great Pyramids at Giza, the Sphinx, the much more ancient step pyramid of Saquarra, and the statuary of Memphis that I think I will leave it to interested readers to further research the details of those locations on their own.  What I would add to what you can find out about them on your own is that to my surprise, there are actually nine, not two, pyramids in the Giza complex.  And while it is true that if you are looking west from the pyramids you will see trackless desert, if you look east you are more likely to see Kentucky Fried Chicken and the expanding suburb of Giza itself.  The Sphinx is much smaller than you think she is and she is clearly carved from a sitting piece of sandstone, not built of bricks as the pyramids themselves are.

Visitors to Saquarra (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saqqara) and Memphis (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Memphis,_Egypt) will find much smaller, more manageable and far less tout-filled premises and honestly, if you have limited time, skip Giza and the mess of come-ons you will endure there and go to Saquarra where you can really spend time among the tombs and ruins without constantly being harangued to buy some good or service.  And at least when we were at Memphis, the original capital of Ancient Egypt, if you want to photograph the tourist policeman, give him a few pounds first and then click away!

Smoking Shisha

On the way back from Memphis Safwat treated us to a stop at a local coffee house, or ahwa.  We had sodas while Safwat had tea and a shisha, the water pipe with plug tobacco mistakenly referred to in the United States as a hookah.  Hookah is acceptable if referring to the practice or equipment in India, but the correct Arabic term remains shisha.  If you are an information junkie, try this for a start: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hookah

To be clear, I am not a tobacco user and I am only mildly tolerant of those who are.  My one complaint about my infusion nurse is that she is a heavy smoker and I hate the smell when she is in the room with me.  But, given that I was in Egypt and since shisha is so popular in Egypt, since I had an Arabic speaker with me to guide me through the process and to order from the coffee house boy who didn’t understand me, and ultimately if Erma Bombeck could drink coca tea in Peru to adjust to the altitude of Cuzco, then by Athena, I could smoke a shisha!  Safwat let me try his first and it was OK, but when I got my own I made sure to get my tobacco flavored with apple which made it a whole lot more tasty.  Other popular flavors included peach and strawberry along with some others that I didn’t quite catch.  One US shisha sales site lists no less than 45 flavors of tobacco available.  The tobacco and hot coals are placed on top of the contraption with a wind screen of aluminum settled over it to keep it from burning too aggressively.  As needed, more hot coals will be added by the boy in charge of these things, not the same one who serves the drinks.  The smoke is drawn down through the water in the base, which cools the smoke and removes water soluble contaminants.  At first, it makes one a bit dizzy, but since you are seated, who cares?  This passes anyway.  It takes about 20 minutes or so to get through one and Safwat made it through two during my one.  It honestly wasn’t entirely unpleasant in the end and it was a truly regional experience I think, although not something I intend to continue to do at home.  Shisha pipes are readily sold in the US these days, but they are not cheap and while attractive, I decided against one more item of clutter for the housekeeper to dust.  And word to the wise, shisha is not safer or healthier to smoke than cigarettes or any other pipe, but as I have said, in Cairo I expect the air pollution would get you before the shisha did.

It might also be worth noting that ahwas are very much male preserves.  There are lots of them scattered about Cairo but never did I see a woman in one.  I suppose one could take that as an example of female oppression, societal prohibitions against smoking being a very bad thing to do to women of course who should be as free as men to court cancer, heart disease, emphysema, and what all, or just as another cultural difference which should be respected, noted and observed for comfort and peace in the world, but not slandered.

We would have dinner that night in another local charcoal grill place where we were again the only non-Egyptians, and again, it was a perfectly pleasant experience eating amongst Egyptian families while the object of mild, but never overt, curiosity, having taken a new route around the main square that kept us in local, non-tourist, streets, which made all the difference in the pleasantness of the journey.  And it was confirmed for me that there must be a paper shortage in Egypt because napkins simply don’t exist.  In there place are either boxes or pieces of facial tissue or actual rolls of toilet paper.  If you are really addicted to paper napkins, take your own, otherwise use what is provided.  By the way however, don’t expect toilet paper in toilets.  That is what the pitcher, ladle, and cold water tap are there for.

Egyptian Museum

The final destination of our journey to Cairo was of course the Egyptian Museum, the foremost repository of the archeological treasures of the ancient Egyptian world.  I was keenly interested in visiting because when I was a youngster my Mom took me to see the King Tutankhamen (I refuse to use the term “Tut) exhibit at the DeYoung Museum in San Francisco, sparking a life-ling interest in the relics of ancient Egypt.

Of course to reach the museum you have to run the gauntlet of gun-toting police and pass through numerous metal detectors, then you deal with the Egyptian civil service, meaning you buy a ticket at one counter, then surrender it to someone immediately behind you, then buy additional tickets for special features inside the museum, and give those special tickets to one of the two ticket takers on duty.  At some point in Egypt it becomes clear that there are multiple people paid by the state to do a job that really only requires one person as a method of attempting to reduce the massive unemployment figures.  What it doesn’t do however, is engender efficiency.

Make no mistake, the museum is pricey and to see both the general museum, the Tutankhamen treasures of gold, and the Royal Mummy Rooms, you will leave behind a good USD$50 per person.  Once you enter the museum, along with thousands of other tourists and locals, you will have to wonder where all the money goes.

This museum truly is the foremost place in the world, bar none, for Egyptian antiquities.  The collection is literally overwhelming in its size, scope, and magnificence.  However, what is equally overwhelming is the despair that I think any lover of antiquity would have to feel at the dismal state of disrepair this storehouse is in.  The museum has no real catalog or even vaguely accurate idea of what they actually have.  Different systems have been used by different administrations and different aid donors and specialists have done things differently yet again, resulting in a mish-mash catalog that leaves much out or poorly, if not inaccurately, identified and located.  Even one of the Royal Mummies remained misidentified for years.  The Museum is close enough to the Nile that there is soft ground and groundwater in the basement into which large stone statues and other remains are sinking, requiring that items actually be excavated from within the Museum itself.  The Museum furthermore has no climate control and has many missing windows, meaning that if it ever should rain, artifacts could become wet, to say nothing of the daily assault of the massively polluted air acting to corrode and damage delicate articles thousands of years old.  For the most part, outside of the most elaborate and golden of the King Tutankhamen artifacts and the Royal Mummy Room, items are not stored in climate or humidity controlled cases.  Clothing, hair, and papyrus items, which are fragile and susceptible to climate changes, are arranged in cases from the 1920s which provide only the minimum of protection.  Even many, in fact most, of the artifacts from Tutankhamen’s tomb are either in these cases or actually in the open air subject to the potential for, although unlikely, dampness and the polluted environment.  While I found the exhibits overwhelming and intensely fascinating in many cases, I was experienced a sense of despair that they are not better protected and conserved.  In theory a new museum will open soon near the Pyramids of Giza which reportedly will correct these problems but as of now, I consider these examples of antiquity to be in various degrees of danger.

The Royal Mummy Rooms are another matter all together and you pay another steep entry fee to see them.  They contain, as the name implies, actual mummies that have been removed from coffins and placed on display.  I had mixed feelings about the public display of human remains and the Egyptian public does as well.  These displays have been a bone of political contention since the days of Anwar Sadat and I think I can sympathize with the consternation some feel at having the ancestors of people presumably living today and as well as icons of the Egyptian people being exposed to view in what rapidly becomes a circus-like environment.  In theory, according to the signage leading to the rooms, one should act in a respectful and quiet manner and photographs are prohibited.  In actuality, the environment is raucous and anything but respectful with adults and children clamoring at the tops of their lungs and some British children making various mocking and derogatory comments about the bodies.  I couldn’t help but think that I wouldn’t want my ancestors displayed in this environment and was tempted, but didn’t, to ask the little bratty Brit child how she would feel if someone made those sorts of comments about her grandmother or parents once they had died.  But I realized that there was no point other than to create bad feeling.  As far as photos went, perhaps the museum banned actual cameras, but they failed to confiscate camera phones and those were flashing by the dozen.  For reasons not clear to me, the guard posted to the room made no attempt to enforce either order or dignity, nor did he stop the photos from being taken.  While the cases with the mummies are sealed from the environment, I do not know if the glass protects against the intense light of the flashes and the damage that can cause.  While the mummies were interesting to view, I felt almost dirty and voyeur-like for doing it and if I had to do it again, especially given the massively disrespectful behavior of the viewing public, I don’t think I would.  I can only justify it as a way to provide cash to a system that sorely needs it.

The animal mummies, including alligators, cats, dogs, horses, snakes, and birds to name only some, are stored in the classic cases from the 1920s which provide only minimal protection.  One has to hope that these priceless artifacts from a vanished culture and time are somehow still adequately protected by their original embalming since I can’t see that the 20^th or 21^st century has done anything to enhance their original protections, and in fact, I think it has more likely exposed them to degradation and damage instead.

Coptic Cairo

On our last day we visited the Coptic Christian section of Cairo.  I won’t even attempt to explain what separates the Copts as a sect from any other Christian group.  I believe it has something to do with whether Christ was a man, a deity, or both.  Suffice it to say that I don’t know and don’t care, but the Copts apparently do and they even have their own Pope, Pope Shenouda III who is based in Alexandria, a major city on the Mediterranean coast of Egypt.  For centuries the Copts and the Muslims co-existed just fine, but lately there have been stresses motivated mostly by political agendas.  These stresses were exacerbated by the behavior of Anwar Sadat, but Hosni Mubarak has eased many of these tensions.

The old Cairo Coptic quarter is completely walled off and has been for centuries, with only three entrances.  One of the entrances is primarily for the museum and the ancient Roman gates which at one time would have been located directly on the Nile River banks, although the course of the river has shifted such that now the river is actually quite some distance away.  The quarter has multiple churches, an active convent and monastery, as well as saints’ relics.  It draws an actively religious crowd who come to venerate the relics and visit cathedrals and churches important to their faith.  The Copts have also historically been socially, politically, and financially successful in Egyptian society, with many of the upper level government positions being held by Copts.  I enjoyed visiting their enclave in the city of Cairo because the atmosphere was noticeably calmer, quieter, and had more of the sense of history that I think I hoped for in an ancient city like Cairo.

For the full scoop on the Copts, try here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coptic_Orthodox_Church_of_Alexandria

Cairo Summary

Cairo presents me with a dilemma in how to report it as a summation.  I can say that on the plus side Cairo is an incredibly safe city, despite what might appear to be the case given the hyper-vigilance of the tourist police.  The crime rate, despite the overwhelming poverty, is lower than most anywhere in the United States.  However, it is also true that if you are allergic to, or just don’t care for, dust, dirt, horrid air pollution, and rampant and omnipresent tobacco smoking, you shouldn’t go.  I try to find positive things to say and recommend about everywhere I go, but honestly, Cairo presents me with a stretch.  I would like to believe that other places in Egypt, be they the other ancient sites or the Red Sea resorts are massively different, but I would be surprised if I find myself finding out personally.

The final straw in the Egypt experience was the night before our return flight when our supposed driver starting calling and texting repeatedly to tell us that our Egypt Air return flight was cancelled and that he needed our ticket number to “confirm” this cancellation.  We smelled a rat, or twenty, so we refused to provide such numbers and instead called Egypt Air ourselves.  There was absolutely nothing wrong with our flight and in fact we boarded it the next day.  The goal was to cancel our tickets and then act the Good Samaritan by helping us, through the South Sinai Travel Agency, to obtain new, and without doubt massively more expensive day-of-travel tickets for which he would receive a commission.  It was bald-faced lying and an attempt to defraud and we were having none of it.  We finally had to have the front desk no longer put through calls to our room to end the madness.  Now, as I have said, I understand that there is a great deal of poverty in Egypt and I understand the relative wealth I represent, and I have absolutely no issue with patronizing local businesses for eating, shopping, and touring, but under no circumstances can I tolerate or condone outright attempts at fraud.  This particular game has been played before and Egypt Air is very aware of it, to the point that they won’t even talk to you about a ticket without the ticket number, that long 13-digit one, unlike in the United States and Europe where most all actions are possible with the provision of only the five character confirmation number or record locator.  Sadly, this attempt would leave a bad taste in our mouths and I don’t think that my paranoia about leaving Egypt truly ended until I was in the air on the return flight to Greece.  Waiting in the Cairo airport we were not really sure that would happen given the repeated power outages occurring while we waited for our flight to board.  Well, while we waited for our flight to board a bus to drive out to our aircraft way out on the tarmac!

First Impressions of Athens

However polluted Athens is reported to be, by European standards, it was an absolute and literal breath of fresh air to us after Cairo!

We were picked up at the airport by a driver arranged by our hotel, the Philippos, which is located literally at the base of the Acropolis.  He was very personable and pointed out sights that he thought were significant, including the highest point in Athens and the original 1896 Olympic Stadium.  We would return to the stadium, a reasonable walk from the hotel, later in our visit.  There are marble markers engraved with the locations of all of the subsequent Games and I marveled at how something that began so relatively small has blossomed into a global marketing and entertainment spectacle.  I confess that I am by turns amused and annoyed by people who get up in arms over events in the Olympics when on any other given day of the intervening years they don’t know a thing about, and couldn’t care less about, say, gymnastics or ice dancing.  The media makes momentary stars out of a select few, who might not even be the most talented and worthy, creates a platform for what is often some unsightly jingoistic chest thumping, and then it all dies away again for a few years.  From such humble beginnings indeed…  If ever in Athens, give the original modern Olympic stadium a look and compare it to what madness exists today.

I was charmed with Athens on the drive in to the city as it seemed to have mostly smaller streets, manageable and well behaved traffic, the air was not visible, and most charming of all, there were orange trees, bearing heavy loads of fruit, lining the streets.  I mused about who owned these trees and why more of the fruit had not been harvested and eaten.  Later, in a park in central Athens, I would pick one of these beautiful oranges, peel it, and eat it.  Then I would understand that it didn’t matter who owned the damn trees because the fruit was simply wretched, bitter and sour at the same time in a way that can’t be described.  Suffice it to say that in Greece I learned that everything that looks like an orange may not in fact be an orange.  I didn’t sample the delicious looking lemons hanging from another tree for fear of a repeat, or worse, performance!

The Philippos Hotel

The Philippos Hotel is the less grand sister of the Herodion Hotel, both with stunning view of the Acropolis.  The entrance to the new museum was literally 50 meters up the same road, so location couldn’t be beaten.  There was also a large supermarket within easy walking distance, so we made our usual pilgrimage to stock up on water, soda, and snacks.  For those who don’t know this, there are no ice machines or vending machines in European hotels, so beware of this and stock up before closing time.  There will most always be an in-room refrigerator for your use.  It is simply a cultural difference that it helps to be aware of.

Although I can’t explain why, Greeks seem to love oregano, an herb I normally associate with Italy more than Greece, but they must love it since even Lay’s Brand Potato Chips come in Oregano flavor in Greece.  I will make two confessions: Yes, I tried them, and no, I didn’t care for them.  The pickled vegetables from the deli counter in the market were a bigger hit with me, even if they were markedly less vinegary than the standard Giardiniera found in the United States.

The hotel location was amazing even if the room was several steps down from what we had in Cairo.  But, the Herodion was full and for the price, which was under €100 per night, we could manage a bathroom that one couldn’t really turn around in.

Of Cats, Dogs, Two Men and Athens

The Philippos is located in a very residential neighborhood of Athens, so when we stood on our balcony we were maybe 10 meters from the balcony across the street.  Suffice it to say that one gets to know one’s neighbors this way and one learns to keep draperies closed.  We would best get to know the neighborhood dogs and cats.  The dogs bark a good deal of the time and when they are not barking, the cats, presumably none of which are spayed or neutered, caterwaul in a style that has to be heard to be believed.  We would have responded to this by closing our window, but even though the daytime temperatures were in the 70s, the Greeks believed it was winter and therefore the only climate control in the room was heat.  With the windows closed we would have stifled since we normally sleep in a room that is in the 60s at most.  I suppose technically it was winter in Greece, but if nothing else gave us away as non-Greeks, our wearing short sleeve shirts instead of heavy winter coats during the day would have done it.

Although it was hard, at first, to consider the dogs barking and the cats caterwauling as charming and local, in time it ceased to bother me and just became part of the background white noise of Athens, a city so rich with history that I didn’t particularly mind a cat or two.  In fact, on our second night at dinner, a meal we would always be too early for since Greeks, much like the Spaniards, go to work early, come home early, go to sleep, and then rouse themselves for dinner and such from 10pm to roughly 2am, a cat played a central role in my repast.  We ate outdoors at a café/restaurant (we were the only ones in the restaurant side) and a cat came along and made it clear that it wanted some of my lamb.  I obliged and a marriage was made in heaven as long as the food lasted.  I had a new dinner companion seated next to me, of the feline variety, while Tim sat across from me.  We all ate quite splendidly!

The Acropolis

For me, a person educated in the liberal arts tradition grounded in the classics of antiquity, who had read and memorized by choice the Greek mythos during elementary school, the experience of standing even in sight of the Acropolis was a lifetime achievement in and of itself.  If you don’t realize it, and I don’t think I fully realized it myself until standing there, the Acropolis is indeed a very large, and stunningly high, rock.  If one wants to get up close and personal with the Parthenon and other monuments up there, one has to climb up a quite steep walk.  I hadn’t counted on that somehow and with neuropathy plaguing me constantly and increasing in severity every day it seems, I wasn’t sure how this was going to work.  But, I also reasoned that I was there and since the neuropathic pain does nothing but increase, another day wouldn’t serve me any better than right now.

And at some point fairly quickly, you don’t notice the climb, because suddenly you are at the Theatre of Dionysus Eleuthereus, built in 325 BCE, and capable of seating 15,000 to 17,000 people to watch the works of Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, and Aristophanes.  You continue your climb and come to the Odeon of Herodes Atticus, a “modern” structure from 161 CE.  And then before you know it, you are at the Propylaea, the gateway to the Acropolis, built between 437 and 432 BCE with the Temple of Athena Nike, considered by many to be the most perfect of all classical Grecian architectural achievements, and you really have to practically pinch yourself to believe that this is really happening.

Then you enter the Acropolis itself and the Parthenon is before you, heavily damaged, surrounded by scaffolding, and yet, stunning and almost unreal because all of your life you have had this image in your head because it has loomed large throughout your education from when your high school senior final exam was based it to it being the model for so many of the important buildings and monuments of our Western lives.  You have to live it to really understand the impact it has I think.  Turn left and you are staring at the elegant Erechtheum among other treasures that you have read about and studied for decades.  Honestly, I do not believe that my words, or any words, can do it all justice.  It must be seen to be understood and Tim’s excellent photos can help with that, as can the historical summary of the site available at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acropolis_of_Athens

The Areopagus

We exited the Acropolis proper and climbed The Areopagus or Areios Pagos.  This is the ‘Rock of Ares’, north-west of the Acropolis, which in classical times functioned as the high Court of Appeal for criminal and civil cases in Athens.  Ares was supposed to have been tried here by the gods for the murder of Poseidon’s son Alirrothios.  In The Eumenides of Aeschylus  (458 BCE), the Areopagus is the site of the trial of Orestes for killing his mother (Clytemnestra) and her lover (Aegisthus).

In pre-classical times (before the 5th century BCE), the Areopagus was the council of elders of the city, similar to the Roman Senate.  Like the Senate, its membership was restricted to those who had held high public office, in this case that of Archon.  In 462 BCE, Ephialtes put through reforms which deprived the Areopagus of almost all its functions except that of a murder tribunal.

The Areopagus, like most city-state institutions, continued to function in Roman times, and it was from this location, drawing from the potential significance of the Athenian altar to the Unknown God, that the Apostle Paul is said to have delivered the famous speech, “Now what you worship as something unknown I am going to proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands.”

The Ancient Agora

From there we would proceed down into the Agora, or city-center of ancient Athens.  This is the place where democracy was invented and first practiced in its purest forms, by people who wouldn’t recognize what we call democracy in practice today.  This is where Socrates taught and was convicted of “corrupting” the youth by teaching them to question what they were told, by seeking truth, for which he would die.  This is the home of the almost perfectly preserved Temple of Hephaestus, started in 449 BCE!  There are almost countless other temple remnants and ruins, and eventually it ceases to matter what each specific name is, what matters is the aura of history, of drama, of triumph and of despair that is embodied in this place which would be expanded upon by the Romans and which to this day sits at the heart of a modern and vibrant metropolis.  If you want more details of what is located in the Agora, try here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ancient_Agora_of_Athens

All About the Worry Beads

We continued on around through the heavily trafficked and heavily touristed Plaka, where immigrants from Africa and South Asia attempt to sell you “splatting tomato” toys as well as knock off sunglasses, handbags, and luggage.  But there was one tourist shop item that I would come to recognize as a quite real part of the life of Greeks, especially the men, and that would be the worry beads.

Kombolói (Greek: κομπολόι, plural: κομπολόγια) is a part of modern Greek culture, used to relieve stress and generally pass the time.  Komboloi worry beads resemble prayer beads, but, unlike them, bear no religious significance. They are merely an instrument of relaxation and stress management.

The origin of the Greek komboloi is debated. It may derive from the komboskini used by Orthodox monks or the Islamic Misbaha.  Komboloi are constructed from any type of bead, although amber, amber resin (such as faturan) and coral are preferred, as they are thought to be more pleasant to handle than non-organic materials such as metal or minerals.

Greek komboloi generally have an odd number of beads (usually one more than a multiple of four, e.g. (4×4)+1, (5×4)+1, and so on) and usually have a head composed of a fixed bead (παπάς “priest”), a shield (θυρεός) to separate the two threads and help the beads to flow freely, and a tassel (φούντα). Usually the length of a komboloi is approximately two palm widths.  A variation of the komboloi with an especially long string, often with only two beads, is known as begleri (μπεγλέρι).

Komboloi often have a prime number of beads on the string, usually 17, 19 or 23. Those with spacer beads, usually metal, between the colored plastic or glass ones, still have a total number which is a prime number, e.g. 37

Komboloi can be handled in many different ways. The most common are a quiet method, for indoors, and a noisier method that is acceptable in public places. The most common quiet method is to start at one end of the thread or chain, near the shield, and to pull the thread forward using that hand’s thumb and the side of the index finger until one of the beads is reached. Then the cord is tipped so that the bead falls and hits the shield. This is repeated until all the beads have been tipped and then the user starts over.

The second, louder, method is to divide the beads in to two groups. On one end are the shield and a small number of the beads. On the other end are the rest of the beads. Where the two threads are empty, that space is laid between the index and middle fingers. The hand should be in a position where the palm is facing the torso. Then the end behind the hand is swung up and forward so that it hits the other beads, making a noise. The threads are then switched back into the space between the index and middle fingers by holding the threads between the thumb and the side of the index finger. This is repeated rhythmically, creating a louder clicking noise than the quiet method. An easier and soothing method is to hold all of the kombolói in one hand and roll the beads against each other, creating soft clicking sounds.

A more modern version of these worry beads continues to gain increasing popularity. Sometimes called wigglers, these simple strings of beads can be used in a number of ways, including both one- and two-handed methods that involve rapidly wiggling the beads in various directions. Fans claim that wiggling the beads creates a rush of adrenaline, followed by a soothing, calm sensation.

Whatever the effect, whatever the style, they are a steady feature of daily lived life in Athens, whether in shops or on subway trains.  And we did ride the Athens subway, a project begun in 1991, and we found it to be clean, reliable, and incredibly useful both for basic sightseeing and even for transit to and from the airport itself.  I think that Greece, despite it recent economic issues that have it in trouble with the northern members of the EU, should be congratulated for the massive strides towards modernization, urban renewal, and mass transit that have been initiated over the last 20 or so years.  I do think that the United States could learn a great deal from what the Greeks have accomplished.

To Syntagma and Mount Lycabettus

We rode the subway into the center of downtown to watch the changing of the guard at the Parliament building at Syntagma Square.  The process is hard to describe but suffice it to say that it involves a complex process of kicks, scrapes, and leg wagging all while dressed in an elaborate costume of tassels and pom-poms.  From there we proceeded on to station closest to Mount Lycabettus.   This is a Cretaceous limestone hill that at 277 meters above sea level, is the highest point in the city that surrounds it.  Pine trees cover its base, and at its peak are the 19th century Chapel of St. George, a theatre, and a restaurant.

The hill is a popular tourist destination and can be ascended by the Lycabettus Funicular, a funicular railway which climbs the hill from a lower terminus at Kolonaki.  Popular stories suggest it was once the refuge of wolves, possibly the origin of its name.  Mythologically, Lycabettus is credited to Athena, who created it when she dropped a mountain she had been carrying from Pallene for the construction of the Acropolis after the box holding Erichthonius was opened.

There are beautiful panoramic views of Athens from Mount Lycabettus.

The hill also has a large open-air theater at the top, which has housed many Greek and international concerts.

If you choose to go here be aware that you will begin climbing long before you reach the funicular station itself.  The streets give way to stairs as you climb up from the subway level, close to the embassies of the United Kingdom and Germany, and once you do reach the funicular station, you will be mightily relieved to be able to stop manually climbing!  Athens, I would discover, is not a city easily suited for those who are not in at least basically decent physical shape with some degree of leg muscle stamina.

Olympian Zeus

The last of the classical buildings we would see in Athens was the Temple of Olympian Zeus, also known as the Olympieion, which is a colossal ruined temple that was dedicated to Zeus, king of the Olympian gods.  Construction began in the 6th century BCE during the rule of the Athenian tyrants, who envisaged building the greatest temple in the ancient world, but it was not completed until the reign of the Roman Emperor Hadrian in the 2nd century CE some 650 years after the project had begun.  During the Roman periods it was renowned as the largest temple in Greece and housed one of the largest cult statues in the ancient world.

The temple’s glory was short-lived, as it fell into disuse after being pillaged in a barbarian invasion in the 3rd century CE.  It was probably never repaired and was reduced to ruins thereafter.  In the centuries after the fall of the Roman Empire, the temple was extensively quarried for building materials to supply building projects elsewhere in the city.  Despite this, substantial remains are visible today.

The New Acropolis Museum

The final glory of Athens for us was the New Acropolis Museum.  The best way to experience it from where you are likely sitting while reading this is to visit the spectacular website, available in Greek and English, that will show you what must be seen to be understood and appreciated.  http://www.theacropolismuseum.gr/default.php?la=2

Suffice it to say that Tim, who is decidedly NOT a museum lover, declared it to be “the best museum EVER!”  I have to concur.  The spectacle starts even before you get inside because when they started to excavate to build they discovered the remains of ancient Athenian buildings.  Today, you enter the museum by walking over glass tiles that allow you a view into the working excavation below.  The glass theme continues as you walk upwards on glass ramps into the museum which is meant to be viewed from the upper levels down.  The designed traffic flow moves you steadily upwards and ensures that you maximize your viewing by artful placement of the artifacts which are never over-crowded as they tend to be in the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art or the Louvre.  The space for the display of the Parthenon friezes is built to the exact proportions of the Parthenon itself, which you can easily see through the windows of the museum.  It is simply masterful and engaging in a totally new and unprecedented way.

Shame on the British Museum

I would ask any and all of you reading this to e-mail the British Museum (http://www.britishmuseum.org/) and demand the return of the stolen “Elgin Marbles” to Greece.  If in the past the conditions in Greece were not necessarily conducive to the preservation and display of these stunning pieces of antiquity, that time is clearly past and the friezes have a stunning home waiting for them.  Bring the marbles home, remove the plaster casts, and make it whole again.  The Louvre and to a smaller extent the Vatican have a role to play in this restoration as well, but the primary player must be the British Museum.  If you have no idea what I am talking about, try here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elgin_Marbles

Briefly put, Thomas Bruce, 7th Earl of Elgin, the British ambassador to the Ottoman Empire from 1799–1803, had obtained a controversial permission from the Ottoman authorities to remove pieces from the Acropolis.  There is controversy as to whether the removed pieces were purchased from the ruling government of the time or not.  From 1801 to 1812 Elgin’s agents removed about half of the surviving sculptures of the Parthenon, as well as architectural members and sculpture from the Propylaea and Erechtheum.  The Marbles were transported by sea to Britain.  In Britain, the acquisition of the collection was supported by some, while many critics compared Elgin’s actions to vandalism or looting.  Following a public debate in Parliament and subsequent exoneration of Elgin’s actions, the marbles were purchased by the British Government in 1816 and placed on display in the British Museum, where they stand now on view in the purpose-built Duveen Gallery.  The legality of the removal has been questioned and the debate continues as to whether the Marbles should remain in the British Museum or be returned to Athens.

Our opinion is clear and I fail to see how a reasonable person, upon visiting the New Acropolis Museum, could not agree with us and support the immediate return of the relics stolen from Greece while under the control of an occupying foreign power.

Headed Home

The day of our return we had an early flight and unfortunately, the taxi drivers union decided to strike starting at 5am that morning.  Fortunately, they had announced this strike in advance, so we left the Philippos one night early and rode the subway out to the airport Sofitel, the same location we had stayed at during our transit to Cairo.  It was just as luxurious as before and I was only saddened that I didn’t have longer to enjoy the room.

Our return flight was with KLM through Amsterdam.  First class on KLM intra-Europe was as disappointing as it was with Air France but worse since KLM actually seats passengers up front in a 3-3 configuration without even the slight consideration of the table in the middle seat like Air France has.  The Amsterdam airport had its moments of amusement with a departure board that is a work of travel art in my mind with numerous exotic destinations on offer, not to mention a pre-boarding frisking/pat down that left me feeling cheap since I didn’t at least get the phone number of the gentleman handling my Mister Johnson and his two brothers.

We were impressed and awed by the sheer number of Delta operated flights leaving out of what is a major hub following the merger with Northwest and we could have chosen flights ranging from Mumbai to Seattle with numerous points in between.  As it was, we were headed home to Atlanta and while the business/first class cabin of the big transatlantic bird was comparable to Delta, the food service most certainly was not, nor do I think the seat was truly as nice as on-board Delta’s Business Elite.  Sometimes, you just don’t know what you have until you are missing it, and we were both missing Delta by the time we landed in Atlanta.

Summation and Dedication

The trip ultimately would be a mixed bag for me I think.  I continue to believe that seeing Athens and even Egypt is critical for a person raised and educated in the Western tradition because so much of what we are today can be traced back to these civilizations that influenced one another in ways ranging from the similarities of Egyptian and Archaic Greek sculpture to the beginnings of monotheism to democracy as well as other shared philosophical, mathematical, and artistic principles.  The conditions in Cairo challenged even my generally sanguine temperament when traveling and that saddened me because I had hoped that I could leave Cairo still willing to return to Egypt to visit other sites of antiquity such as Luxor or Abu Simbel.  However, as it stands, it will be a huge stretch for me to venture to Egypt again, and while I am hesitant to ever say never, I would say that it is unlikely.  Greece however, arguably even more the origination point of the world I live in than any other place, was a winner in my book.  I would return easily and gladly, but only in the winter for I fear summer would be mercilessly hot.  I would like to have more time to explore more of the antiquities of Greece as well as the modernity, and of course I have a bizarre, for a non-sun worshipper, hankering to wander amongst the Isles many of which figured so largely in my childhood entertainments of Perseus, Theseus, and the like.  Greece was and is magical and I am ever so grateful that I was able to visit there, will hope to return, and wish all of my readers many fruitful travels of their own.

Special thanks are due to Margaret Land who some 22 years ago endowed me with much of the knowledge and insight that would carry me through the experiences of these ancient cultures and lands.  May she know that her efforts were not in vain and that her lessons are alive within me to this day.