Not your biggest fan of the pyramids

I took a great picture during my second visit to the pyramids yesterday. It was with a disposable camera (my digital camera was covertly taken back to the States by my father after his visit to Cairo, unintentionally—or so he claims). I’ve been fielding some demands for pictures over the past few weeks. Sadly, ya’ll have to wait until I return to NJ in late November to retrieve my camera and take a quick break from the madness of Cairo.

The picture I have captures the new and old of Egypt, and something that I detest in-between. In the background is a classic picture of the three pyramids at Giza; their sheer size and history is overwhelming, and (at least in my first two times visiting), has left me speechless and shaking my head. How did they ever build this? Was it really the work of Jewish and other slaves? And I think my work is a pain sometimes.

In the picture, the pyramids tower over a group of tour buses, full of tourists eager to get a firsthand view of one of the ancient wonders of the world! And standing between this blend of the new and old, of the wonder and the wonderers (William Safire would be proud?), is a group of Egyptian ‘tour guides,’ small in the picture, but all too real and present in my trips to the pyramids. They are a group of vultures, Machiavellian animals, biding their time before swooping in on their prey, teeth bearing and hands ready to clench—in case a tourist might not be taken with their words. They all swear they are government employees, (“look at my plastic, outdated card—I am with the government!”) and promise that you are only allowed to see the pyramids under their watchful eye. Their lies are as prevalent as the stones upon which the pyramids were built thousands of years ago, and they are the reason that I hate visiting the pyramids.

It seems strange that I should get so worked up over some tourist harassment. Malash (‘whatever’), as the Egyptian saying goes, right? I am a tourist in a foreign land, and with that title come certain consequences. I’ve been used and abused by taxi drivers and local restaurants in Cairo in my first five weeks, and that doesn’t bother me particularly. What really gets at me, though, is the way that they look at me at the pyramids. They hate me, they detest me and what I represent, and I know it. I can read it in their body language, in their snarls and glares of reproach when I tell them (for the hundredth time) that I would not like to ride on their horse, or that I am not made of money—and cannot give 60 Egyptian pounds after being manipulated into taking a ‘free’ picture on a camel.

I wonder if they even like the pyramids. They sure don’t seem to know very much about them. My father and I were coerced into riding a man’s horses when we first visited the pyramids for 100 pounds (and later 500 pounds). Some nuggets of knowledge: did you know that parts of the Nile dried up because the Egyptians had to use so much water to build the pyramids? Or that the Pharaohs workers are buried in smaller rooms next to the pyramids? Yep. Neither did I, and neither does any real tour-guide or history book.

I know I seem spiteful, and I’m sure it doesn’t wear well on me. I also know I have trouble letting go sometimes, and maybe I just need to take a deep breath and laugh it off. I just hate when people hate me for no reason, when they despise me for a wealth I don’t really have or for a way of life I’m trying to let go of during my year abroad. It’s the pyramids! I know it’s hot and dry outside, but can’t you at least put on a friendly face?

I’ve been talking a lot about simplifications and misconceptions in this blog. It’s a topic that I’m interested in, and a theme that I am continuously drawn to here in Egypt. I’ll try not to harp on it too much, but I think that the pyramids offer the worst of these fake, touristy interactions. They are an ugly depiction of Egyptians at their worst, and foreigners are their most foreign. So onwards and upwards! To better, less touristy attractions where I don’t feel quite as hated.

A cautionary note to friends and family interested in visiting me this year. (You might have seen this one coming): you should see the pyramids, but I don't think I'm going to join.