15 January - Cultural Sensitivities

Cultural sensitivities - Buzz words for Team Egypt. There are many times that jokes which are considered seriously funny to us are considered seriously unfunny to the locals. There are many times that we believe that we are engaging in good banter and it quickly degenerates into an uncomfortable air. There are countless times a day when I consider what I am wearing – not from an appearance perspective, but in order to understand whether I am offending anyone. Very shortly we became “culturally sensitive”. We were a little slower to make a crack at some silly situation. And I covered up out of choice. However, as we cycled into Luxor, we saw endless tourists and a massive Mc Donalds advertisement, and promptly kissed “cultural sensitivities” goodbye! What a relief.

OK. Not entirely, but I felt liberated and relaxed for the first time this trip. It is amazing how the flip-side of this generates endless touts who hassle you at every turn, giving you a “gift” and then asking for payment. We found a budget hotel which cost us 20 Egyptian Pounds (R25) a night for bed and breakfast and “Bath and A/C” as advertised! It is no penthouse, but it is comfortable and affordable.

We were ushered inside and offered tea and a seat by the woman of the house. Welcoming the weight off the legs, we took a seat and enjoyed a few moments of casual chat with her in which she tried to work out the team dynamics of exactly who we were and where I fitted in. This was only confused by Niall’s explanation that Twig and I had met whilst surfing in Cape Town! She was incredibly chatty and funny, telling us of “exotic” belly dancers where one puts money in the cleavage and can get to dance. The dudes, to their credit, weren’t very interested by this. They were more interested in where the young tourist females would hang out for a little bit of a razzle!

With perfect hindsight, we discovered that she was stalling. She was making intermittent phone calls to her man and in retrospect, he must have been telling her to keep us there. The man of the house arrives! And proceeds to tell us that he has no room, but is shuffling someone around and is making a plan for the remaining three to stay at the next door hotel for the evening and then transfer over the following evening – typical Egyptian mentality! This was after we had taken a look at a three bedroom room that he was suggesting all six of us sleep in and had politely declined with sheer incredulity at the logistics of physically doing that.

Then came the smooth sell. We paid 300 Egyptian pounds for a day’s guided tour of the Valley of the Kings and the Valley of the Queens. It was impressive stuff, but the guide turned out to be little more than a babysitter as she wasn’t allowed into the tombs to explain anything. We were also seriously embarrassed by how much we had overpaid and endlessly frustrated by every Tom, Dick and Abdul trying to sell us some cheap tourist garb.