7th
More on Yurp and Egypt
In Belgium and Germany, you can pretty much puzzle your way through the street signs. Like, if you give it a minute, you can figure out that “GETINNUNDERUNDGETINONENUNDRIDENTRAM” means “subway.” But in Egypt, you can’t figure any of that out. Good luck.
The cops in Cairo take tourist dollars pretty seriously. So much so that there is a branch of the police force called the “Tourism and Antiquities Police.” We werent sure what those guys did until we were walking into the Pyramid complex at Giza and saw a cop walk up behind these four local kids who were hassling the tourists (“Yankee go home,” or something) and straight up punch one of the kids in the face. HARD.
So the tourism police keep you from getting mugged, etc. But what they dont do is keep the freaking salesmen away. Apparently what happens is that somebody who has some crap to peddle has to give a few egyptian pounds to the cops before he is let in to the complex. Failure to do so leads to severe recriminations.
Cops have AK-47s here. First time I have ever seen one outside of a museum or outside of the history channel. As we were driving to the pyramids, I kept nodding off in the back of the van. I would sleep for about five minutes and then wake up and almost crap in my pants because I thought I had been kidnapped or something. I mean, everyone gets disoriented when they wake up. Imagine waking up in the back of a van in Cairo.
I saw a street cleaner on the side of the road very meticulously gather trash, cans, bottles, magazines, newspapers etc. into a pile and then shovel it into a canal that looked like a mile long open sewer.
Probably against my better judgment I went to the hotel casino and messed around at the blackjack tables. I ended up sitting next to someone who was wearing the garb of the House of Saud, who expel thousand dollar bills when they sneeze. I was just plunking away with $5 bets, keeping it even and enjoying the free beer, and my new gambling buddy was learning how to play with $100 chips. Puts down $100. Draws a twelve. Asks me what he should do. I explain in very elementary english with no slang that since the dealer is showing a nine, he should take a card. He draws a seven, leaving him with nineteen. The dealer gets ten. It’s a tie. I have a twenty and win five bucks. The Saudi asks why he would draw on a twelve. I tell him that he should always assume that the dealer is going to draw a ten on his second card. Then I tell him that the object is not to get to twenty one, but to simply have a better hand than the dealer. His eyes get real big and he starts betting in earnest. His fortunes go up and down. He loses money that would make me consider suicide and then wins it back. Its chump change to him.
It was a miracle that I didnt see any traffic accidents. A freaking miracle. There are no traffic lights here. There are no stop signs. The lanes are suggestions. People honk and swerve and get so close to each other that you can maybe fit a slice of American cheese between the cars. Families of four get on the same motorcycle. Women ride on the backs of motorcycles sidesaddle style on the highway. And somehow, in the midst of this rampaging honking traffic nightmare, nobody gets hit.
