Letter from Egypt

And Now... Egypt.
After taking December off to travel in Syria, Lebanon, and Jordan (where I floated in the saline waters of the Dead Sea, and hiked the far reaches within the ancient city of Petra), I flew from Beirut to Cairo on the second to last day of 2009 to begin a new job on a TV show about (what else?) Egyptology.

No amount of Middle East sightseeing and adventure could have prepared me for the experiences I am having in Egypt. I consider myself very fortunate to have the opportunity to explore Egypt for such a substantial length of time--it's a seven week shoot--all the while earning a paycheck.

On my first day in Egypt I tech-scouted the Great Pyramids of Giza and the Sphinx--I will be back there several days in the coming weeks to shoot. My second day had me riding atop a 4x4 shooting B-roll in the vast desert surrounding the Pyramids at Dahshur. And while my work has left me little time to explore Cairo itself, the largest city in North Africa, seeing the archaeological sites in which I spend my days have already made this trip worth a hundred vacations.

Because there are too many to properly manage and manage, the majority of archaeological sites in Egypt are closed to the public. But because we are working for the History Channel (a media entity known to drum up tourism) and because the Secretary General of the Supreme Council of Antiquities, Dr. Zahi Hawass, is the subject of our show, our production has been granted access to certain tombs, pyramids, and temples most people have not been able to visit for years. We even covered a bona fide discovery this week, one the Council is calling "the best find in years"--and the kind of thing archaeologists drool over.

In addition to shooting in and around Cairo and Giza, our crew will head south to Luxor for a week and north to Alexandria for a quick shoot there. This month I will have the once in a lifetime experience of being four hundred feet beneath the surface of the Earth when we shoot a scene inside a tomb at the Valley of Kings.

It's A Desert Because... It's A Desert
On a good physical map Egypt looks like a beige rhombus with a vertical green line drawn down the right side of it. Inside that green line is an even narrower blue line--that would be the Nile. You've probably heard of it. The rest of Egypt, I can report, is sand broken up by a few oases here and there. It's hot, then it's cold, but mostly it's dry.

Cairo is Huge
Cairo is the first place I have seen homeless people since being in the Middle East. I can only assume they are homeless because they are sleeping on subway grates. The transition to a major city in a new-to-me part of the world was made much easier by my having spent so much time in the region already. If Beirut was like Albuquerque, Damascus like Chicago, and Jordan like Ohio: then Cairo is a dirty Los Angeles. It's vast, crowded, noisy, diverse, and difficult to navigate. The traffic is insane beyond belief. The smog is thick as mud, the buildings are dusty. Sadly, it's tough to find good food here (especially coming from Lebanon and Syria where one must search out a meal that's less than perfect). So far, I have not seen anything I would describe as "quaint" in Egypt.

For anyone planning a trip to the Middle East, I would suggest Egypt for the archaeological wonders, Syria for exotic and exciting Arabic culture, Jordan for rest, relaxation, and sightseeing, and Lebanon for partying like a rockstar, and eating delicious food--though you can hike and ski there too.

Am I Going to Hell?
My job has me holed up in the Four Seasons Hotel, overlooking the Nile on one side and the Great Pyramids of Giza on the other. Wouldn't it be my luck to get stuck with the Pyramid side? Several evenings I have watched the sun go down behind the Great Pyramids of Giza as I kicked back on my private balcony strumming the El Cheapo guitar I purchased months ago in Lebanon.

I am shocked I actually have it in me to complain about the service at the Four Seasons. The main problem is that it's too good. The staff have no qualms about touching my razor and toothbrush, and they continue to fold my dirty laundry even after I have asked them to stop because that confuses me. There are too many options to choose from at breakfast. The workers don't leave me alone and they are far too pleasant. People actually come by at night to save me the trouble of turning down the blankets on my bed, and aligning up my complimentary slippers for easy entry. When I call down to ask for a wake up call, the scripted response is "with pleasure, Mr. Bland," to which the only reply I can think of is "Pleasure? Really?"

So, yes, hello, it's me, a fat North American sitting pretty on the African continent, complaining about the all too eager service in my luxury hotel while miles away entire families subside on whatever piastres they can gather transporting their crops to market by ox or donkey, or raising a few goats for slaughter.