Egypt

1986 -- Here, once again, we had fun. A very dry, dusty place, mais sure, added to which, the officials were as crooked as can be. They all demanded baksheesh—we were very tired of bribing everyone by this time. Sure, it was time-honoured tradition, but traditions be stuffed. All the yachties go through, carrying on paying everyone off because it is too much of a hassle not to, and by the time you know it, it's so firmly ingrained you can't do anything if you don't. It's a bloody nuisance.

Favourite baksheesh items:

• cigarettes of American brands (i.e. Marlboro)
• foreign alcohol, preferably spirits
• clothing items with visible, well-known brands

But never, ever, money. You offer money, you're one dead person. That's bribing, the others are "gifts".

We went to Cairo, fiddling and baksheeshing every official we could think of to do so. In Cairo, on every corner there appeared to be armed guards. Everywhere.

But we got to see the pyramids, go inside. The pyramids. We went into one—costs money to do so—and we had to go up this very small, upwardly sloping tunnel. It was a tight fit for myself and my brother; I shudder to know how much of a tight fit it is for the adults. A claustrophobic person came down while we were going up, and we all squished to the sides. Poor person. I wonder how s/he went.

Once inside the main chamber, it no longer was as cramped. Indeed, it was huge. There was an empty coffin there—the body in the museum, and it was lit. I can't remember where it was lit from, but I am somehow under the impression that there was a hole in the ceiling (yeah, I know it sounds stupid, but that is my impression, and it stands). We were not allowed to take cameras in (we don't have photographs, and knowing how photo-mad my mother is, that is the only explanation available).

If you wanted pictures, the only way you could get them was to buy them from the museum. In the museum, there were the mummies—wizened people, that's what they looked like. Really. Their faces were like that of an old person with their eyes closed. I swear. Not scary at all—they were half-wrapped. We saw reconstructed photographs too; perhaps they looked like the person, perhaps not.

Something else that I remember … the camels. I can't remember whether I loved the things or was dead scared of them; I know that it was one or the other. Perhaps I am confusing my brother's reactions with mine. But I know that I rode them—there are photos of me on them; many of them.

Dates. No, not the dates going out kind of thing, but the fruit. There was an abundance of them there, and pretty cheap.

Other than that, I cannot really remember anything worth remembering from Egypt.