The Rain In Spain Is Mainly In The Plane

A short, uneventful flight out of Cairo delivered us in Zurich a few hours before sunset. After a frantic, last-ditch stab at flying standby to Madrid proved fruitless (Iberian Airlines’ staff struck us as excellent candidates for Indian government posts), we attempted to access the Star Alliance airport lounge in order to make a Zurich hotel reservation online. We were summarily twice denied entrance by rigorously-toilet trained Swiss attendants, the second of whom informed us that "nothing is free in Switzerland." Without missing a beat, Vik retorted, "Apparently, not even good will."

After booking a room via a bordering terminal’s telephone hotel directory, we spent a lackluster night at the garishly-multicolored and dorm-like Park Inn. Adding insult to injury, we were forced to violate Kaberi’s no-American chain rule and spend an extortionate $20 for two combo meals at the adjacent McDonald’s. The next day, we checked in early for our evening flight to Madrid and spent nine hours in the cramped One World Alliance airport lounge making hotel reservations online for our trip to southern Spain and Morocco. By the time we had settled into our laughably-mediocre business class seats (basically nothing more than ratty, old coach seats on an ordinary airline) on an Iberian flight to Madrid, we were heartened by our progress in securing a place to sleep for the next two weeks.

When the flight touched down in Madrid later that night, Kaberi pulled our passports out of our travel portfolio in anticipation of going through Customs. After being ushered through with nary a stamp of our U.S. passports, we made our way onto the airport train shuttling passengers to the main terminal. Upon reaching the baggage carousel, Kaberi attempted to return the passports to the travel portfolio, only to discover it missing from our shoulder bag. After spending a futile hour asking the relevant airport and airline authorities to check the plane and immigration control for a wayward black travel wallet, we dejectedly resigned ourselves to moving on to our downtown hotel. Turning in a few hours after midnight, we half-heartedly hoped that better news might await us the next morning.

When morning arrived, and a call to the airport turned up no leads, our fears of having been pickpocketed were confirmed. Thus, we greeted our first day in Madrid with the realization that our travel cash, around-the-world tickets and immunization records were now in someone else’s ill-begotten possession. We took solace in the fact that we had managed to retain our passports. Vik tried to cheer up an inconsolable Kaberi with two observations: (1) whoever was desperate enough to steal our money needed it more than we did and (2) nothing we lost was irreplaceable. Vik also took a measure of satisfaction from knowing that the thief would be on the receiving end of a brutal dollar to euro exchange rate.

After a quick breakfast, we moved from Madrid’s upscale Goya neighborhood to a more eclectic and central vantage point on Gran Via. In the process, we managed to upgrade our accommodations, as our bright room at the Hotel de las Letras dwarfed that of its predecessor. As we were within walking distance of both the Prado and Reina Sofia museums, the Palace and Royal gardens, and an assortment of bars and tapas restaurants, we took full advantage of the next few days to explore the majestic Spanish capital by foot.

As the highest capital city in Europe, Madrid proffered balmy, sunny days with pleasant temperatures and cool evenings. Capitalizing on the picture-perfect weather and armed with Vik’s new weakness, Starbuck’s banana java chip frappaccinos, we strolled the city’s wide, tree-lined boulevards, walking by grand buildings like the Palacio de las Comunicaciones and important cultural institutions like the fountain in which fans celebrate after a Real Madrid win. We also indulged in a variety of epicurean pursuits including chocolate con churros, pitchers of fruit-drenched sangria and delicious, assorted tapas.

We also managed to browse several of the city’s art collections. On our first day we took in the Reina Sofia’s Picasso exhibit, most notably, the huge Guernica canvas portraying the horrors of life under fascism in 1930’s Spain. The next afternoon, we visited the world-renowned Prado to see the Goya and Velazquez collections before rejuvenating in the shady Real Jardin Botanica next door. On our final full day in Madrid, we spent an hour and a half waiting to enter the Convento de las Descalazas Reales, a convent dating back to the 15th century where small groups of 15 were allowed to enter for a 30-minute guided Spanish language tour. After finally making our way in, we took in the architectural beauty and the treasure trove of art and sculpture donated by wealthy female benefactors.

Even with the many cultural offerings to absorb us, the highlight of our time in Madrid was seeing familiar faces. On our first evening in town, we were picked up by Kaberi’s cousin Debashish to have a home-cooked Indian dinner with his parents, Kaberi’s aunt and uncle visiting from Scotland, Madhulekha mashi and mesho, his wife, Iraxi, and their two young daughters, Daniella and Andrea. Debashish, an avid Real Madrid fan, made a point to show us the team’s impressive football stadium on the way. He also introduced Kaberi to her new favorite drink, cerveza con limon (beer splashed with Fanta). And later in the week, we caught up with Vik’s Stanford friend, Enrique, over an Italian lunch on Gran Via.

All in all, our time in Madrid, save for the inauspicious start, was enjoyable. As our time in the city wound down, we prepared to embark upon a tour of Andalusia in southern Spain.

Egypt Trip Cut Short

We awoke the next morning eager to see the only surviving Ancient Wonder of the World in the form of the Gaza Pyramids located roughly 40 minutes outside of Cairo. After a quick breakfast of cereal and strawberry juice, we arrived at the hotel lobby, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, at 7:30 am. Our guide turned out to be a chatty, young, heavyset woman with bright green eyeshadow and sparkling glitter on her face (a stark contrast to the appearance of most of the Egyptian women we had seen covered from head to toe in sober shades of brown and black). Her proposed itinerary included the step pyramid at Sakkara, the Ramses II museum at Memphis and the three pyramids and Sphinx at Giza. She also offered to take us to a “carpet school” (a codename for carpet stores), which we quickly struck from the agenda. The day turned out to be distinctive. We began by appreciating from outside the earliest attempt to construct a pyramid tomb (in stepwise form) at Sakkara before going inside to inspect the hieroglyphics. We then drove ten minutes to the rather unimpressive ancient city of Memphis – formerly Egypt’s capital – to observe a large horizontal Ramses II statue and a crude, miniature Sphinx. From Memphis, we drove to Giza to see the much-anticipated and most-renowned of Egypt’s tourist sites with our own eyes. Throughout, we were forced to fend off the advances of aggressive hawkers accosting us with mispronounced shouts of the Indian film star (this would be akin to Vik roaming the streets of Paris shouting “Gerald Depardieu” to get the attention of onlookers, a move he apppears to be contemplating down the road). Even though we knew that Giza was not remotely situated in a far-off desert, we still were not prepared for the pyramids to rise up from behind a street light in the middle of an unremarkable tourist strip. We soon made our way to the three stately Giza pyramids (one of which – the Great Pyramid – we crawled inside as one of the 250 visitors allowed to access the king’s burial chamber), a small museum housing a wooden boat excavated at the pyramids’ base and the iconic Sphinx. Unfortunately, our experience was marred by our subpar guide, who, after chatting amiably with us for a few minutes, devoted most of her attention to gossiping with the driver in Arabic or to devouring her arsenal of falafel wraps. We never managed to regain her attention, as she seemed wholly uninterested in fulfilling her official duties or providing any context for our experience. Upon arriving in Gaza, we were stunned by her refusal to get out of the air-conditioned van. Instead, she offered a hasty bare-bones overview of the site from her perch before sending us into the late morning sun to buy our own tickets. Meanwhile, every other guide we saw in the vicinity was alongside his or her charges, snapping their pictures in front of the monuments or pointing out relevant firsthand. We did our best to keep our so-called guide from spoiling our experience, mainly by reading from our guidebook or eavesdropping on other guides’ explanations. When she sauntered off before noon – leaving the driver to escort us to lunch – we finally lost our patience. Given that we had found this guide through an upscale hotel’s in-house travel agency, we worried greatly about the service quality for the next two weeks of our trip. Fuming, we scarfed down an Indian lunch at the nearby Mena Oberoi hotel overlooking the pyramids while strategizing about our recourse. When we eventually returned to our hotel, we lodged our complaints with the General Manager’s assistant, who also attempted to locate an alternate travel agency on our behalf. Meanwhile, we logged back online, only to once again find that we could not book plane tickets or Nile cruise berths without going through a travel agent. Through our own accord, we identified appropriate flights and a suitable cruise operator receiving favorable feedback online. We then forwarded the details to two separate hotel staffmember intermediaries to pursue on our behalf with two different reputable travel agents. Realizing that we would be stuck in Cairo until the travel agents could confirm onward details, we made arrangements with a second travel agency for a day trip to Alexandria for the following day. With any luck, we would be making our way up the river Nile in two days. Unfortunately, things did not go nearly as smoothly as planned. Our first sense of the impending challenges occurred that evening when a third travel agency came back with a quote much higher than we expected. Muffling his protests over the sizeable cost to pacify his increasingly-agitated wife, Vik attempted to make payment via credit card. When the travel agent demanded complete payment in cash (for multiple thousands of dollars), Vik bid him farewell. The following morning, the owner of the second travel agency met us in person to revisit each step of our intended itinerary. Disappointed that no progress had been made on the travel plans, we patiently re-explained every last detail. With assurances that everything would be taken care of, we left for our day trip to Alexandria, located three hours northwest on the northern Mediterranean coast. Alexandria proved to be an interesting excursion, and included visits to the city’s Roman-era catacombs, Pompey’s Pillar, the gorgeous new library and the Mediterranean-facing citadel. Our guide (an Egyptian Derek Jeter-lookalike) started off on a strong note, providing us with a helpful overview of Egyptian history and buoying our spirits with the thought that this day would go better than its predecessor. We were heartened that our guide actually alighted from the van and accompanied us to all of the sites. Unfortunately, our high hopes would soon be dashed. It soon became clear that our guide was handling us and taking advantage of our good faith. Our lunch tab was mysteriously inflated to twice the normal cost (suggesting that we paid for the meals of our guide and driver without prior consent). Some hours later, the cheap falafel stand we wanted to stop at for dinner was mysteriously inaccessible until Kaberi found it on her map located smack dab in the city’s conspicuous central plaza. The final straw for both of us, and cementing Vik’s disdain for Derek Jeter (both the original and the look-alike) occurred while we waited for tickets outside the Alexandria Library. After Vik had the gall to say that Egypt struck him as a tolerant society, the guide gave us a stinging, condescending, 30-minute lecture on the aggressive, expansionist aims of Israel. When we returned to our hotel that evening, we found that the second travel agency had created its own itinerary, keeping us Cairo for an additional three nights and booking us on its preferred cruise operator (one that didn’t show up on any Google or TripAdvisor searches). Adding insult to injury, the cost for the trip exceeded the original estimate by a factor of three. Disgusted and at the end of his rope, Vik made the executive decision to pull the proverbial rip code. He called United and changed our ticket to leave Egypt the very next day, shortening our two-week trip by ten days. In a last ditch attempt to salvage her trip, Kaberi searched online for any reasonable option. When none appeared, she was forced to go along with the decision to leave early, albeit with heavy heart. Kaberi holds out hope for a future return to the world’s oldest tourist destination and the enchanted land of Cleopatra, Nefertiti and Ramses II. Apparently, conventional wisdom suggests that Egypt is best discovered and appreciated through an all-inclusive guided tour.

Cairoglyphics

After a long, uneventful flight to Cairo via Singapore, we made our very first groundfall on the African continent just before midnight. Upon deplaning, we were struck both by the sour smell of sweat and the heat, which hovered above 80 degrees despite the late hour. Tired and jetlagged, we were both quite glad that we had pre-arranged pickup and arrival visa assistance with our hotel. After being led through Customs and then whisked through the dusty back streets of Cairo via a Mercedes sedan, we were delivered to our five-star-in-price-only hotel some thirty minutes later.

We managed a few hours of fitful sleep before (in what was becoming a recurring theme on our trip) being awoken by a nearby mosque’s morning call to worship. We were subsequently reawakened a few hours later by loud Arabic talk radio coming through the hotel’s thin walls (courtesy of the next room’s former occupant). Forcing ourselves to fight through jetlag, we rose and made our way to the hotel’s club lounge for breakfast, where Kaberi was introduced to strawberry juice, a heavenly puree of sweet fruit that would become her sole drink for the foreseeable future.

After breakfast, we began planning our full two weeks in Egypt over the Internet. Armed with Kaberi’s friend Miki’s Rough Guide to Egypt, chock full of handwritten suggestions on what not to miss and what to skip, and a Concierge.com dream Egyptian itinerary, we quickly formulated a decent plan. Satisfied for the time being, save for a frustrating inability to book flights or cruises in Egypt via the Internet, we left our itinerary with the hotel’s concierge and asked for a price quote from the in-house travel agency. With a few productive hours behind us, we started our explorations of Cairo.

The first stop on our agenda was the Egyptian Antiquities Museum and our early start to the day deposited us at the front gates before the museum opened. After buying our tickets and ensconcing ourselves at the front of the line, we prepared to follow Concierge.com’s advice to bypass the hordes of tour groups assembled in the lobby for orientations and make a beeline for ­­rooms 3, 56 and 14. We had used the same trick at the Louvre a few years ago, and it had allowed us to admire the Mona Lisa undisturbed for a good ten minutes.

This time, our best efforts were thwarted by the museum’s poor numbering scheme and our own unfamiliarity with Egyptian antiquity. After wandering the rooms aimlessly, looking queryingly at the seemingly-endless clutter of unmarked statues and busts, we realized that we needed a guide to appreciate our visit. After exiting the building to haggle with one of the many guides unceremoniously assembled near the ticket booths, we settled upon a choice.

As it turned out, our guide was a well-intentioned man who had one hour’s worth of information at his disposal to fill a three-hour visit. His repetitive explanations of the symbolism of Upper (southern) and Lower (northern) Egypt, depicted by the papyrus and lotus, or red crown and white crown, turned into a ceaseless mantra that transformed us from intellectually-curious adults into fidgety middle-schoolers desperate for class to end.

The highlight of our visit was very clearly the King Tutenkamen (Tut) exhibition halls. Having seen the condensed, traveling King Tut exhibit in the U.S., we were astonished by the vastness of the contents comprising the burial tomb. We were also struck by King Tut’s relative inconsequence as an Egyptian ruler (he reigned only 14 years before dying very young and did not lead any military campaigns). If not for the discovery of his relatively-pristine burial chamber, he would be nothing more than a footnote in modern times. We could only imagine the scale and grandeur of the tombs of more important kings whose larger treasures did not evade the hands of graverobbers or other misfortunes.

The 3,000-year old artisanry reflected in King Tut’s treasure was a sight to behold. The painstaking detail and symbolism in many of the pieces was truly remarkable. For example, King Tut’s walking cane and footstool were adorned with black and white figures depicting Nubian and Syrian figures, thus symbolizing the king’s power to hold the traditional enemies of Egypt under his grasp and under his feet. The impeccable and delicate craftsmanship was repeated throughout the exhibition’s wooden boats (to transport the soul in the afterlife), jewels, gold pieces, coffin and sarcophagus.

After perusing the King Tut exhibits, and due to our misconception about the current currency exchange rate, we paid an outrageous admission price ($35 for two) to stroll through the rather-forgettable Royal Mummies Room. Our last stop before leaving was to see the Fayoum Portraits, a collection of Greek-influenced Egyptian watercolor paintings of nobility.

Afterward, we returned to the hotel on foot, thankful to have gotten something out of our visit. After arranging for a daylong guided tour of the Giza pyramids, the Sphinx and Memphis for the following day, we spent the afternoon giving in to jetlag.

When evening arrived, we took an impossibly-circuitous taxi ride to a restaurant in Cairo’s Muslim quarter overlooking the Citadel. We took in the sunset view and watched the area mosques illuminate as we dined on kabobs, babaganoush and hummus at Studio Misr. And in what would prove to be a short-lived state of affairs, we congratulated ourselves for successfully playing it by ear on our first full day in Egypt.