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Al-Ahram Weekly 18 - 24 May 2000 Issue No. 482 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 18 - 24 May 2000 Issue No. 482
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Focus Features Heritage Travel Living Sports Profile People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters A tourist in disguise
By Mona El-Tawil
Suddenly, one lazy morning without any prior plan, I found myself a tourist in my own country. An e-mail, from a Malaysian friend of mine, set off a series of events that took me out of my daily Cairo routine and sent me up the Nile. What an experience it turned out to be!
Mona El-Tawil
The note said that she would be coming with two other travellers and she wondered if I could arrange a Luxor-Aswan cruise for them. The catch was that they were arriving early the following day and wanted to go to Luxor straight away. Time was short, as they were attending a Cairo conference later in the week. Miraculously, I was able to secure rooms on a cruise ship, but no such luck with the air travel. So, we would have to go to Luxor by train.
Once they arrived, to my surprise, there were only two at the airport. The third had had passport problems and was forced to come later in the week. Since all the bookings had already been made, I started toying with the idea that maybe I should go. It had been some time since I last went to Luxor and many years since I visited the monuments. Why not?
So, dressed up in jeans and t-shirts and armed with books and magazines to while away the 10-hour trip, we headed off to the train station. As we entered the station, I started to get an inkling as to what to expect on this trip. The station is a huge cavernous place filled with people, from all walks of life, milling about everywhere. We were caught in this mass wondering where we needed to go. Amid the confusion were a few signs in Arabic with platform numbers on them, dusty and hardly legible. Thanking my lucky stars that my mother tongue is Arabic, I rushed around trying to find someone who would lead us to the correct platform. Sure enough, one of the ticket agents assured me that I needed to go to platform 11.
Climbing down stairs, through the tunnels, lugging our bags along behind us, we finally arrived at the correct platform with a good 15 minutes to spare. Around us stood a throng of people going to the Saeed or Upper Egypt. Feeling hungry, I scrounged around and was able to find a "cafeteria" which was nothing more than a room with a few tables and chairs. The only items of interest were some lonely bottles of water and a few soft drinks, but we were glad to sit down. For company, we shared our table with scrawny cats longing for scraps of food.
Time passed quickly and the train rolled into the station on schedule. After another scramble to find our carriage, I sighed with relief that my friends had not tried this alone. They would have been at a total loss! Finally, we settled down in very comfortable chairs and relaxed. Right on time, the train moved out. Feeling nationalistic, I did not waste this opportunity to brag to my friends about the punctuality of Egyptian rail!
We settled in nicely, flipping through the magazines and hoping to doze off. Sleep, however, was not to come so easily. I was surprised to hear loud music. This was strange, I thought to myself. Recently, I had read in the newspaper that due to many complaints the TV and radio were no longer used. I soon discovered that the music was not coming from the train system, but a portable radio operated by one of the passengers. My friends and I kept quiet and suffered in silence from the start of the trip at 9.00pm until I lost all patience at 1.30am. Frustrated, I went to the passenger and asked him if he could lower the volume so we could all get some sleep. He retorted that he could not sleep on trains and thus needed to listen to music!! However, my friends, exhausted from jet lag, slept well despite the din.
Other than the constant banging of carriage doors, vendors selling biscuits and tea every half-hour and the loud conversation of passengers talking above the blare of the booming radio, the trip wasn't really too bad. The only real shocker was the sorry state of the toilets. Before dozing, I forgot to warn my friends. One of them attempted the lavatory and rushed back in horror.
We arrived in Luxor at 6.30am ready to take on the town with all its rich offerings. From the station, we headed straight to our cruise ship. Unfortunately, the receptionist at the front desk had no clue we were coming. When I showed him the illegible copy of the voucher from the travel agent in Cairo he said that this voucher was for nine single rooms and three doubles, and did not specify any cruise ship!
The receptionist suggested that we come back at noon, as he couldn't immediately help us. So keeping up a brave front I told my friends we had a few hours to kill. This gave us a chance to explore Luxor. At the time, I did not have the heart to tell them we might need to take the train back to Cairo! Inside, I was determined to give the travel agency a piece of my mind and hopefully sort everything out without alarming my guests.
The morning air was crisp and fresh. Luxor in the early hours of the day looked spick and span. We walked on the broad corniche along the Nile and I marvelled at the number of cruise ships lining the eastern bank. Three to five ships deep, there seemed to be hundreds of them. I pointed out the temple of Luxor, simultaneously trying to refresh my memory and act as a knowledgeable guide. As we strolled, I drew their attention to the famous Winter Palace Hotel, regally overlooking the Nile with its beautiful garden of rare trees and cacti.
For breakfast, however, we opted for one of the newer hotels, the Sonesta St. Georges. It was a good choice. They serve a generous buffet on a terrace overlooking the river. Time stood still. Palm trees and the desert, stretched out beyond, formed the backdrop for sailboats drifting down the ancient waterway. Mercifully, there were no cruise ships to break the silence.
Returning to our reservation dilemma, I was ready to blast anyone's head off at the slightest mention of a problem. I was met by a polite young man who assured me there would be no further difficulties. He asked if I could just give him a few minutes. I waited patiently while he and another young man shuffled papers back and forth. Finally, all smiles, he handed me the room keys and said we were all set. "Are you sure we have the five-star rooms?" I asked. The travel agent in Cairo had told me there were no more four-star rooms. Consequently, I agreed to pay a little extra in order to stay in five-star rooms. The polite young man gave me a strange smile and told me not to worry. Later on, the manager of the cruise ship told me there is no such thing as four-star or five-star rooms. All rooms on the cruise ship share exactly the same rating. Our ship was rated five-star. All rooms, therefore, are five-star.
However, when I saw my room I got another shock. By whose standard was this considered a five-star room? The cabin was small. It contained two very narrow beds, a tiny closet, a cramped bathroom and the smallest TV set I have ever seen. The manager explained to me that the Ministry of Tourism does the star rating. Apparently, there are three categories of five-star: standard, deluxe and superior. Ours was the standard five-star. The boat is 10 years old and appears not to have been renovated once. He explained to me that since the tourists are starting to come back, there is a master plan to renovate most of the 400 Nile cruise ships. This will start next June. I told him I hoped the renovation work would include some new furnishings.
Soon it was time for lunch. The three of us had a very nice table of our own, once the ma”tre d'hôtel realised I was Egyptian. The food was literally dished out on our plates. Some kind of pasta was the first course. This was followed by a slab of meat served with a dollop of mashed potatoes and greasy peas. Then, dessert was served buffet style. On the menus were sliced oranges, dates and local bananas. One of my Malaysian friends is vegetarian and the ma”tre d'hôtel obligingly prepared a special dish for her. He was really very accommodating. Nevertheless, I kept thinking, if this is five-star, what are the three-star and four-star cruise ships offering?
At 2.30pm it was time to meet with our guide for the tour of the Karnak and Luxor temples. As the group gathered, we met the rest of our fellow passengers for the first time. All of them were from South Africa. Our guide turned out to be very knowledgeable and spoke excellent English. Listening to him, my enthusiasm for ancient history was rekindled. I had really forgotten the power and awe these Pharaonic ruins still command.
One thing that flabbergasted me was the sheer number of tourists. If you haven't been to Luxor recently, be forewarned. It is teeming with people from all corners of the globe speaking a multitude of tongues. I was really thrilled to see so many tourists. After the Hatshepsut massacre in November 1997, Luxor had become a ghost town. My happiness in seeing this throng, however, was short-lived. Many in the crowd were sitting on pillar bases, leaning against walls, touching inscriptions and downright abusing the ancient monuments. Even areas that were roped off for restoration work were not out of bounds. Mindless people beyond the ropes lounged on blocks of granite taking snap shots, totally oblivious of the fact that they were violating the site of a painstaking restoration project. Only one elderly guard seemed to be concerned. As he tried to get the people out of the protected areas, all the other guides and caretakers wilfully remained blissfully unaware of these transgressions.
As we walked through the temples, I was appalled to see much graffiti. Fortunately, I was spared the sight of seeing anyone actually writing on the walls of these ancient treasures.
The following morning we were up bright and early to visit the Valley of the Kings, the Valley of the Queens and the Temple of Hatshepsut. In these sites, I was impressed with the work done to protect the tombs. Glass screens have been installed over the walls to prevent anyone from touching the hieroglyphics and modern ventilation systems prevent damaging moisture from condensing. Along the ancient walkways wooden ramps and good lighting make it easy and safe to explore the narrow tomb corridors. Each tomb is well marked by signs stating the name and dynasty of the king or queen. However, I would have liked to see some explanation of the inscriptions inside the tombs. Succinct and unobtrusive summaries of the texts would add greatly to the richness of the experience. This is especially true for the more popular tombs. Guides are not permitted in many of these tombs because of the heavy traffic. Usually the guide gives a short lecture before you enter and then you are on your own.
Once inside, you cannot help but marvel at the skill and craftsmanship of the ancient Egyptians. Elegantly simple technology was put in the service of a complex philosophical system. Even at the most basic practical level, pondering the question of how the ancients managed to dig deep into the heart of solid rock is mind-boggling. Digging the tomb was only half the miracle. Once completed, the walls were lovingly decorated with intricate reliefs and brilliant colour.
The 1997 tragedy has resulted in increased security, but it's unobtrusive. There is a cursory bag check and a walk through a metal detector. At the entrance to the Valley of the Kings, I noticed an armoured car. However, the real threat to tourism is not random terrorist attacks. Tourists have more to fear from the way they are treated by the industry itself.
Tourism is Egypt's most lucrative economic activity. It far surpasses the Suez Canal in revenue. What do we do with this resource which encompasses one third of all the world's ancient treasures? We harass, hassle and hustle our clients. Instead of viewing tourists as valued guests, we look upon them as walking wallets. Enter a tourist into any major site and vendors clamour for attention. Merchants run in high pursuit offering their wares. What they offer is nothing more than cheap imitations at outrageous prices.
I myself was accosted on several occasions. Interestingly, once I spoke and the vendors realised I was an Egyptian, their whole attitude changed. It is my sincere hope I shamed some of them. The result of all this unseemly chaos is that nobody buys anything. Tourists are smart and generally savvy. Only a very few of them fall into the traps laid out for them. It saddened me to see the way the vendors and many of the local service providers act. From cabbies to the horse-carriage drivers to the felucca operators, everyone is trying to take the tourist for a ride.
I was dismayed to learn that some sites are no longer visited because of the way the tourists are treated. The temple in Esna is a sad case in point. To reach the Esna temple you have to go through a narrow road that is lined with stalls on both sides. Many tour operators have dropped Esna from their itinerary because of overly aggressive vendors.
To be fair, those in the travel business complain that many of today's tourists pay very little when they vacation in Egypt. The country is a bargain. Generally, once here, they don't tip and spend very little in the local market. Tourists, on the other hand, complain that Egypt is one of the most expensive countries they have ever visited because of the exorbitant prices demanded.
The debate, however, is akin to the question of which came first, the chicken or the egg? If we want to entice the big spenders, we must offer them proper service. You get what you pay for. Here we have first-class monuments but we offer the tourists third-rate service. Maybe if we start treating our tourists with respect and dignity they would do the same to our monuments and temples. A vibrant tourism industry is vital to Egyptian prosperity. Let us not squander it away with short-sighted greed and lack of respect.
The writer is a lecturer at the American University in Cairo.
