Sherrill and I visited more than 60 countries and most of the United States during our 52 year marriage. This is number 47 of a series about our lives and travels, true stories of two people discovering the world, each other, and themselves through five decades of traveling together. If you scroll down, you'll come to earlier posts in this series. To start at the beginning of our marriage and travels look at the Archives list in the sidebar and start with May, 2017. Older posts are a previous series.
Sherrill with the Pyramids & Sphinx at Giza, Cairo, Egypt
Sherrill and I missed by one day the worst massacre of tourists in Egyptian history, 62 people from Switzerland, Japan, and several other countries. Blood flowed under that flawless sky, but not ours. Although we'd been at Thebes the day before, by the time the Islamic militants were shooting down foreigners on the wide terraces of the female pharaoh Hatshepsut's funeral temple we were sailing south on the Nile toward Aswan. We didn't learn about the killings until three days later.
City of the Dead (cemetery), Cairo Fundamentalists wanted to bring down Egypt's secular government and rid the country of foreign infidels, ignoring the fact that the country's economy depended on tourist income. Throughout the country, farmers still followed horses and plows through their fields, women and children still did hard labor, and in Cairo thousands of families lived in the tombs of the "City of the Dead" because they had no place else to go.
We'd already been in Egypt three weeks before the shooting and, despite the armed guards who accompanied us on parts of the trip, vigilant and mute as the soldiers on ancient friezes, despite the security we encountered at hotels and museums, we were more frightened of crossing a Cairo street than of being targets for fanatics. Everywhere, local people were friendly and welcoming, but we'd never seen a city with so many smoke-spewing cars racing so heedlessly, ignoring speed limits, traffic signals, and signs. Usually, when we wanted to cross a street, we attached ourselves to locals.
At an insanely busy corner one day, when Sherrill and I were trying to get back to our hotel, she grabbed me by the sleeve as I was watching an open truck with half a dozen scrawny camels and pulled me into the street next to a pair young Egyptian workmen carrying a sheet of plate glass. One of them was wearing a faded Material Blonde tee shirt. When they noticed us walking next to them, they stopped in the middle of the intersection, antique Citroens and vintage Volgas and Sjkodas buzzing around us.
"You know Michael Jordan?" one asked.
"Yes!" Sherrill shouted, gesturing toward the far curb.
We all arrived with bodies and dusty plate glass intact and the two grinning men continued down the block with their precarious burden. The recorded call to prayer sang out from a nearby minaret, then seconds later another followed. Men stopped on the sidewalk and in shops to drop small prayer rugs for their devotions. From the facade of the Qasr el Nil Cinema dark-browed, mustachioed movie heroes gazed down as the chaotic traffic roared past. Finally, we reached the vast Liberation Square, a gray island circled by traffic resembling the Ben Hur chariot races, but fortunately we didn't need to cross it.
At an insanely busy corner one day, when Sherrill and I were trying to get back to our hotel, she grabbed me by the sleeve as I was watching an open truck with half a dozen scrawny camels and pulled me into the street next to a pair young Egyptian workmen carrying a sheet of plate glass. One of them was wearing a faded Material Blonde tee shirt. When they noticed us walking next to them, they stopped in the middle of the intersection, antique Citroens and vintage Volgas and Sjkodas buzzing around us.
"You know Michael Jordan?" one asked.
"Yes!" Sherrill shouted, gesturing toward the far curb.
We all arrived with bodies and dusty plate glass intact and the two grinning men continued down the block with their precarious burden. The recorded call to prayer sang out from a nearby minaret, then seconds later another followed. Men stopped on the sidewalk and in shops to drop small prayer rugs for their devotions. From the facade of the Qasr el Nil Cinema dark-browed, mustachioed movie heroes gazed down as the chaotic traffic roared past. Finally, we reached the vast Liberation Square, a gray island circled by traffic resembling the Ben Hur chariot races, but fortunately we didn't need to cross it.
Bruce, Sherrill, & friends at Giza Our first morning in Egypt, we walked out the door of our room and gazed over the treetops to the two largest pyramids looming more magnificently than we could have imagined. Later that day, a pair of camel drivers in flowing galabiyahs maneuvered two sneering camels onto their knees so we could climb onto the rug-covered saddles high on their humps.
"Lean back!" the drivers yelled as the camels lurched up, hind legs first.
As we pitched and swayed toward the Great Pyramid of Cheops, we forgot everything but the grandeur of the stones piled in front of us. Eventually back on blessed ground, we hiked around the stone mountain and its neighbor, the Pyramid of Chephren, the only one still with part of its original limestone covering. We couldn't climb the pyramid, but we did maneuver like half-open pocket knives down a long ramp to the burial chamber—and back.
"Lean back!" the drivers yelled as the camels lurched up, hind legs first.
As we pitched and swayed toward the Great Pyramid of Cheops, we forgot everything but the grandeur of the stones piled in front of us. Eventually back on blessed ground, we hiked around the stone mountain and its neighbor, the Pyramid of Chephren, the only one still with part of its original limestone covering. We couldn't climb the pyramid, but we did maneuver like half-open pocket knives down a long ramp to the burial chamber—and back.
Another day, we braved armed guards and metal detectors to prowl through Cairo's huge antiquity museum while workmen were sending paint chips and concrete dust over treasures thousands of years old. Tourism was down because of fear of terrorists, so we almost had the gloomy place to ourselves, giving us a chance to linger at the treasures of Tutankhamen and to study the gaunt features of Ramses the Great and other kings and queens in the Mummy Room.
Egyptian students at Cairo Citadel Later, at the great citadel overlooking the city, we waded into a flood of several dozen laughing, giggling Egyptian students, some traditionally dressed, others in western clothes.
"Hello!" they called. "What is your name?" "Where do you live?" "Welcome." "How old are you?" "Welcome to our country!"
It was hard then to imagine that this was a place in which our lives could be at risk.
"Hello!" they called. "What is your name?" "Where do you live?" "Welcome." "How old are you?" "Welcome to our country!"
It was hard then to imagine that this was a place in which our lives could be at risk.
Nevertheless, a couple of days later, as we drove north to the Delta and Alexandria, our bus was followed by a jeep in which four soldiers sat ready with machine guns. Sometimes, local police also preceded us along the highway. In Alexandria, we stayed in a small hotel next to the ornate Montazah Palace where, until King Farouk's abdication in 1952, the royal family escaped the summer heat of Cairo. Whenever we left the grounds, to get back in we had to show our room key to armed guards to prove that we belonged within the walls and, of course, had to pass through the ever-present metal detector to get into the hotel.
Old Summer Palace, Alexandria We visited the usual sites in Alexandria, the Greco-Roman museum, the Sultan Bey's fort on the site of the famous Pharos lighthouse, and the Royal Jewelry Museum, and had lunch in the old Cecil Hotel, once hangout of Somerset Maugham, Lawrence Durrell, and Winston Churchill. One evening, as we walked along the corniche next to the sea, we saw a wedding party through a restaurant's picture windows, men and women celebrating in different sections of a long room. Further along, in a narrow cafe, men were drinking coffee and smoking long pipes connected to bubbling hookahs and, passing us on the corniche promenade, young couples in western style clothes walked together, some of them holding hands.
Back in Cairo, after a morning of sightseeing with our group, including an ancient Christian church supposedly on the spot where the holy family sheltered during their stay in Egypt, I was ready for a different kind of exploration, mingling with local people, but nobody would wander into the old city with me. They thought I was crazy to even think of doing it.
"Why don't we...?" I asked Sherrill, but she shook her head. A pair of armed youths in camouflage uniforms in a jeep by the bus watched us from behind their dark glasses.
"I'm not afraid, just tired," she said, "but you can go if you want." When I handed her my camera to take to the hotel, so I wouldn't look like a tourist, she added, "Just don't get killed."
Discreetly armed with my street map of Cairo, I maneuvered the narrow alleys of the Khan el Khalili bazaar, then made my way deeper into the old city, the crowded, colorful area in which Nobel Prize winner Naguib Mahfouz had met his friends, drunk strong coffee, and composed his complicated, brilliant books—and also where he was attacked by fundamentalists who hated his "secular influence" on the Egyptian people. The battered street signs on the sides of the buildings, I discovered, were in Arabic, but I managed to follow landmarks such as the post office and various squares and parks. My only fear was the wild drivers who turned Cairo into an endless Bumper Cars game, with pedestrians moving targets for extra points.
Away from the bazaar, tiny shops spilled their merchandise onto the narrow side streets: here it was bedding and linens, on another block pots and pans, and in the next block shoppers picked through bins of shoes. Sidewalk vendors roasted corn on the cob over small braziers and peddled it for pennies. Tiny cafes and stalls offered meatballs sizzling in spicy sauce, grilled pigeons, and meat wrapped in flat bread, and in little cafes men (only) sipped at glasses of coffee or tea. From an adolescent vendor at a small stand, I bought a glass of hot sweet tea that burned my lips and throat.
"Why don't we...?" I asked Sherrill, but she shook her head. A pair of armed youths in camouflage uniforms in a jeep by the bus watched us from behind their dark glasses.
"I'm not afraid, just tired," she said, "but you can go if you want." When I handed her my camera to take to the hotel, so I wouldn't look like a tourist, she added, "Just don't get killed."
Discreetly armed with my street map of Cairo, I maneuvered the narrow alleys of the Khan el Khalili bazaar, then made my way deeper into the old city, the crowded, colorful area in which Nobel Prize winner Naguib Mahfouz had met his friends, drunk strong coffee, and composed his complicated, brilliant books—and also where he was attacked by fundamentalists who hated his "secular influence" on the Egyptian people. The battered street signs on the sides of the buildings, I discovered, were in Arabic, but I managed to follow landmarks such as the post office and various squares and parks. My only fear was the wild drivers who turned Cairo into an endless Bumper Cars game, with pedestrians moving targets for extra points.
Away from the bazaar, tiny shops spilled their merchandise onto the narrow side streets: here it was bedding and linens, on another block pots and pans, and in the next block shoppers picked through bins of shoes. Sidewalk vendors roasted corn on the cob over small braziers and peddled it for pennies. Tiny cafes and stalls offered meatballs sizzling in spicy sauce, grilled pigeons, and meat wrapped in flat bread, and in little cafes men (only) sipped at glasses of coffee or tea. From an adolescent vendor at a small stand, I bought a glass of hot sweet tea that burned my lips and throat.
Eventually, wandering past and through gloomy alleys, dodging motorbikes and clusters of gesticulating men in ankle-length galabiyahs, I came to the elevated "skyway" that slashed through this part of old Cairo. A burqa-swathed woman sailed past me like a black galleon, face hidden behind a small screen, passing buxom adolescent females in Western garb. Ashy-skinned boys with naked legs and arms struggled through the mob on donkey carts, collecting garbage. No one bothered me or stared suspiciously at me. I felt like an ordinary piece of human debris washed along the currents of these ancient streets.
As I hesitated on a curb, two young Egyptians in polo shirts and imitation jeans confronted me.
"Welcome to Egypt," said the first, head tilted forward on his skinny neck.
"Yes," said his friend, the taller of the two. "We happy you here."
Pleased by the unexpected contact, I tried to talk with them, learning that they were university students.
"How about coffee?" I offered, gesturing toward some tiny tables and stools up the street. They exchanged glances, looking embarrassed.
"We are late," said the first young man. "You are kind, but we are late."
Next to the skyway, in a wide building open at the sides, I discovered an indoor market in which gory carcasses and hunks of meat hung on hooks and were draped across blood-dripping counters surrounded by bargaining shoppers of both sexes. Depressions in the concrete floor sloshed with rusty red liquid. Among the heavily draped old women and bulky middle-aged men, a trio of young Egyptian women in black Levis and designer tee shirt knockoffs were examining bulgy-eyed fish heaped on a slimy table.
"Welcome to Egypt," said the first, head tilted forward on his skinny neck.
"Yes," said his friend, the taller of the two. "We happy you here."
Pleased by the unexpected contact, I tried to talk with them, learning that they were university students.
"How about coffee?" I offered, gesturing toward some tiny tables and stools up the street. They exchanged glances, looking embarrassed.
"We are late," said the first young man. "You are kind, but we are late."
Next to the skyway, in a wide building open at the sides, I discovered an indoor market in which gory carcasses and hunks of meat hung on hooks and were draped across blood-dripping counters surrounded by bargaining shoppers of both sexes. Depressions in the concrete floor sloshed with rusty red liquid. Among the heavily draped old women and bulky middle-aged men, a trio of young Egyptian women in black Levis and designer tee shirt knockoffs were examining bulgy-eyed fish heaped on a slimy table.
At King Farouk's island Palace, Cairo The next day, Sherrill and I explored with a couple of friends from the group a palace complex on an island in the Nile, including the jungle-like gardens originally created for the royal family. Every inch in the palace was covered with elaborate patterns of marble, rare wood, and jewels. The throne room was so overdone that it looked like an opium fantasy, but the supreme triumph of personal excess was King Farouk's hunting museum, where we gazed on the heads of three hundred gazelles and passed cases that displayed thousands of once living creatures ranging from butterflies to stuffed lions to an elephant foot umbrella stand.
A few days later, we flew to Luxor, where we boarded our cruise ship. We sailed north first to visit the great temple of Hathor at Dendera, then turned south, returning to Luxor and the massive temples rising above the Nile. As we made our excursions from the ship, we no longer had the armed escort we'd had with us in the more populated north, but the people we encountered were friendly—even when they weren't trying to sell us something. The temples at Luxor and Karnak were bigger than we'd expected, but also more beautiful, rich with finely carved bas reliefs and statues. Again and again, we heard that when the money became available, more buried sites would be uncovered.
 Sherrill on Nile boat |  Feluccas on the Nile |
After a couple of days exploring the remains of the great city of Thebes on the east bank of the Nile, including the new Luxor museum, we crossed the river to visit the tombs and monuments on the west side. To protect the vibrant colors of the tomb of Queen Nefertari, recently restored with Getty Foundation funds, only a 150 people a day were allowed in for 10 minutes each. We visited the tomb where young King Tut's treasures were found in 1922 and a couple of handsome tombs for the sons of Ramses II. We were impressed by the delicate drawings and beautiful colors, but the most remarkable were of the goddess Nut on the ceilings, surrounded by the gold spangles of the heavens, as she swallowed the sun and gave birth to the moon every night.
 Guide, Papyrus Court, Luxor |  Bruce, Temple of Amun Ra, Karnak |
Then we were scheduled to visit the funeral temple of the female king Hatshepsut, but for some unknown reason that was canceled, so we visited the funeral temple of Ramses II instead. The next few days, took us up the Nile to famous sites such as Esna, where we walked in the almost perfectly preserved hypostyle hall of the temple and to Edfu to visit the temple of the falcon god Horus. We visited the Aswan High Dam and took a small boat to the island on which the Philae Temple had been moved before the flooding.
The next morning, as we neared Aswan, we were told that an incident had occurred at Luxor, but details were still sketchy. Not until we left our ship two days later, did we understand the scope of what had happened. Why hadn't we visited that temple as planned? Had someone suspected that it would be a target? We never knew. The tour company offered to fly us home immediately but we all chose to stay and continue into Nubia to visit Abu Simbel. The Egyptians we spoke with were as horrified by the killings as we were. It was hard to imagine, watching the sun set behind the feluccas as they sailed over the mirror-like Nile, that we could be in danger.
The next morning, as we neared Aswan, we were told that an incident had occurred at Luxor, but details were still sketchy. Not until we left our ship two days later, did we understand the scope of what had happened. Why hadn't we visited that temple as planned? Had someone suspected that it would be a target? We never knew. The tour company offered to fly us home immediately but we all chose to stay and continue into Nubia to visit Abu Simbel. The Egyptians we spoke with were as horrified by the killings as we were. It was hard to imagine, watching the sun set behind the feluccas as they sailed over the mirror-like Nile, that we could be in danger.
 Philae Temple moved to Nile island |  Ramses Colossi, Abu Simbel |
The day after we saw the gigantic temples built by Ramses the Great and admired the engineering feat of raising them 200 feet up the hill to save them from the rising waters of Lake Nasser, we were back in Cairo. In spite of everything, Sherrill and I had been impressed by everything that we'd experienced in Egypt and hoped that others would come, too. The people were welcoming and needed visitors like us—and still do.
To be continued....
To be continued....
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Please pass the posts on to anybody else you think might enjoy them.
You also might enjoy reading the new bargain-priced e-book of my first novel, The Night Action, set in San Francisco's North Beach in the early 1960s. The book is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and other online retailers. Click on the title or Here for the link.
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