Layover of the Pharaohs

Seeing the pyramids has been high on my bucket list since before I was old enough to know what a bucket list even was. By third grade I was hooked on all things Egyptian. Fact or fiction, the strange images of the hieroglyphics, the unique vision of the afterlife, the mummification process, the myths, legends, and curses, the reverence for cats, eight-year-old me soaked it up and longed to see the pyramids.

Almost twenty years later, my inner child was silently squealing with joy as we touched down in Cairo International Airport.

Let’s be blunt, our decision to extend our layover in Egypt from six hours to three days evoked some strong reactions. The 2011 Revolution, the demonstrations in Tahrir Square, the continued travel advisories from the US State Department, none boded well in the eyes of family and friends. Emails and phone calls, when Egypt was mentioned, dripped with concern. But, to Cairo we went.

Egypt was immediately striking and unique, a city that runs abruptly into the pyramids and the desert, as though divided by invisible walls. From the strangely silent and solitary camel ride through the desert to the massive, warehouse-like feel of the Antiquities Museum, everything felt incredibly, well, Egyptian.

And then there was everyday Cairo. Revolutionary street art and the incredibly welcoming and warm Egyptians themselves.  A ubiquitous presence of stray cats. Savory kofta, falafel, lamb, and pita sandwiches available from street carts for next to nothing. Men, young and old, lounge about in sidewalk cafes, drinking tea, playing dominoes and smoking hookah.  

Smiles, conversation, and advice abounded. Hello. Welcome to Egypt. Ah, I love America. Close your eyes, pray Allah, and keep walking; it’s the only way to cross the street in Cairo. We were made to feel safe and welcome. Even the tanks parked outside of the museum felt nonthreatening, like slumbering giants, aware but not on guard. 

We had braced ourselves for the worst, for the possibility of having to stay holed up inside the airport should we have arrived to a Cairo in distress. Instead, we had an overwhelmingly positive experience. Thank goodness we listened to the Rachel of third grade instead of all the modern day Debbie downers.

A Drop in the Bucket List

The Taj Mahal tops any number of must-see lists. And not without good reason. It is iconic, a majestic, beautiful structure, renowned as a tribute to love eternal. Its marble inlay that covers the arches and gateways is delicate and precise.

It is also India’s biggest tourist trap. At 750 rupees (roughly $13.50), its entrance fee is more than double that of most other historic places of interest. For perspective, that’s more than our nightly budget for a hotel room.

And of course it doesn’t stop there. The city of Agra is a veritable sales pitch played on loop. Tuk tuk drivers encourage you to stop at shops, stay in hotels where they get a commission. Vendors don’t understand that sometimes, no matter how low the price, you just don’t want what they’re selling. Everyone wants a cut, a kickback, a couple more rupees.

But, every once in a while fortune shines bright on our little trip through Nepal and India. First, our timetable landed us in the Buddha’s birthplace on the Buddha’s birthday. Then, we found ourselves in Varanasi on the day when the newly-elected (in a landslide) Indian Prime Minister was visiting the city.

Turns out, in Agra we got lucky again.

We arrived on the last day of a three-day holiday honoring the death of Shah Jahan, who built the Taj as his wife’s mausoleum. During said holiday, the 359^th Urs (deathiversary) of the Mughal emperor, the cenotaph chamber, which contains the graves of both Shah Jahan and his wife, is open to the public. Also, entrance is free.

Of course, free entry and a major holiday are not without their downsides – specifically the massive crowds that push and pulse their way through the gates. The line to get inside the Taj and view the tomb (opened once a year during the holiday), even during the height of an Indian midday in summer, was more like a mob four people deep, wrapping all the way around the outside of the mausoleum. Needless to say we only saw the outside of the building.

In the end it was a bit like a postcard, only far more crowded. Magnificent structure. Check on the ol’ bucket list. Happy we didn’t have to pay to see it. 

Khantoke Dinner

Celebrating and embracing the Lanna culture of Northern Thailand, a Khantoke dinner is a fantastic experience. Dinner is accompanied by traditional Lanna music and dance, with all performers wearing the customary garb.

 The final song even includes audience participation, during which time women are invited to dance around the restaurant in a sort of Thai conga line while moving their hands in intricate patterns. And, while all Thais have learned these hand gestures from a young age, watching foreign women try to replicate it must be a laughable sight.

The highlight, of course, is the food. A handful of different dishes are served on a pedestal in the center of the table. The selections include traditional fare like lemongrass sausages, Henglay pork curry, fried chicken, pork tomato-chili paste, pork rinds, and Thai green chile paste with fresh streamed veggies. Sticky rice is a useful and delicious tool for eating from communal plates, as everything is shared. The best part, all the dishes are endlessly refillable.

Delicious food, interesting cultural performances, and nice pillows to lounge on once you’ve stuffed yourself so full you think you might never move again, who could ask for more? 

Mae Salong: Chinese and Cherry Blossoms

Northern Thailand is full of tiny, out-of-the-way towns and villages, sprinkled with various minority groups and hilltribes. Among these groups of not-quite-Thai Thais, the mountain-top town of Mae Salong, tucked away on winding, hilly roads, has its own unique story.

In addition to the standard fare, Mae Salong is home to a population of former soldiers from the Yunnan area of China. As Nationalists refusing to surrender to the Communist Chinese, these soldiers fled overland through Burma. Various shifts in politics led to thousands entering Thailand in the early 1960s. Eventually, as they stood at the ready to defend themselves against a potential attack by Chinese communists, the soldiers were granted Thai citizenship in exchange for agreeing to fight Thailand’s communist insurgencies of the 1970s and to forego opium production for growing oolong tea.  

These days, the remaining population of resettled Yunnanese is small, certainly smaller than the population of Thais and Akha. Most of the Chinese influence can be seen in the numerous shops peddling tea and various herbs, the restaurants claiming authentic Yunnanese cuisine, and the Chinese Martyrs’ Museum on the outskirts of town.  

The town hosts a Cherry Blossom Festival each winter, with flowers blooming during late December and early January. Unfortunately, we managed to miss the majority of the blooms by about a week, finding only sprinklings of pink and white still clinging to some trees.

Like much of the world, what was once unique is now mostly a tourist trap. Vendors all sell similar wares – teas, jewelry, paintings, handbags, shoes, herbs – each stall mirroring the previous. The Yunnanese food was overpriced by Thai standards (and similar dishes can be found sold in many Chinese-run restaurants within Chiang Rai city).

There were several redeeming factors, of course. The drive, though a grueling three and a half hours roundtrip on a motorbike, was made up of breathtaking views. And the town itself, despite any flaws, sits on top of the world, serene. 

Africa’s Camelot

 

Lavish castles are something you would expect to see when touring Europe, but are a bit more out of place in East Africa. Oddly enough, Ethiopia is home to a sprawling complex of castle and palace ruins.

Home to Ethiopia’s emperors and princesses during the 17^th and 18^th centuries, Gondar boasts an impressive array of fortress walls, castles, palaces, and royal baths. Strange though it may seem from a western historical perspective, the first castle was built in 1640.

It is a surreal experience to eat a meal of shiro and injera, have some locally brewed coffee, and then find yourself wandering among the massive walls of former castles.