Independent trip from Hurghada to Cairo
Rested with his wife in Hurghada and decided to go to Cairo on their own.
Why independently, and not organized by a group? We didn’t like the group trip very much (look left, look right, 2 hours perfume factory (regular store)), 2 hours papyrus factory, 4 hours museum, etc. A step to the left, a step to the right is punishable by death....
In general, it was decided to go on our own next time.
Before leaving for Hurghada, I shoveled through a sea of information about Cairo, roughly formed a list of objects of interest for inspection (metro, zoo and Khan el Khalili market).
The day before the trip, I ask our guide (tour operator "Wind Rose") - how can I go to Cairo on my own? He looks in amazement and says no way! And all because if we buy tickets not from him, but at the bus station (there is one in Hurghada, near the METRO supermarket), then the police will remove us during the document check and send us back at our expense (as it turned out later, complete nonsense, our bus the police did not stop at all, and if they did, they would simply wish you a happy journey. The main thing is to have passports with you (preferably not Israeli 8-)))).
In the evening of the same day, we went to the bus station (transport company "Go Bus") and bought tickets there (Tuesday 02.00) and back (Wednesday 23.30). They have four types of buses: the first type - something like PAZik or Bogdan - zero amenities, hard to sit - 45l. ticket, the second type - similar to the tourist Ikarus - £.60, the third type - a comfortable Mercedes with air conditioning, travels with a stop of 5.5 hours - £.75, and the fourth type - an improved Mercedes, travels non-stop, 4.5 hours on the road - £.100 . We bought 4 tickets for 75 pounds and were satisfied with the choice. I clarified with the cashier and the head of the bus station that I would only have passports with me and there would be no problems with the police.
Half an hour before departure, we were at the bus station, and since everything is written in Arabic on the buses, I smartly approached each standing bus and, showing the tickets, asked if we should get on his bus. Finally, one carrier agreed that he was going to Cairo and we were with him 8-)). All the carts at the bus station stared at us, because we were the only whites (it seems that there are not enough such extreme people who travel on their own to Cairo). A sleepy Arab came and started to let everyone onto the bus, handing out rations along the way (there was a caraway bun, a bag of guava nectar, napkins and a croissant in the ration). Entering the bus, and discovering that all the males sitting (and this is about 90 percent of all those traveling) were examining her with interest, the wife immediately declared that she was sitting by the window.
Sit down, let's go. Our driver (by the way, for some reason, all the drivers of large buses in Egypt are necessarily hefty blacks, I suspect that this is some special clan 8-)) decided to entertain the audience and put on a cassette video a gangster melodrama of local production. In Arabic with Arabic subtitles. Fascinating, no words. "I didn't see any changes in the bus. We were driving through the desert at high speed. Very high speed. Immediately I involuntarily recalled the statistics of accidents of tourist buses in Egypt. But if tourist buses are driven by the best drivers, it means that regular buses drive not the best. Mood dropped , I immediately wanted to just live on. Rising up on the seat, I looked at the speedometer - 145 km / h. After that, I sat back with a firm desire not to wake up again until Cairo itself.
I had to wake up an hour later during a half-hour stop. We went out into the street together with everyone and looked around where we had drifted. There was a desert around, and only two small one-story houses - a shop and a cafe. The prices were WOW-GO - a 0.5 liter bottle of "Baraki" cost 5 pounds (in Hurghada 1 pound). Immediately got sick of drinking 8-)). I ask the owner - where is the toilet? He exchanges glances with the seller - they begin to laugh. As it turned out, the toilet is the whole desert....
They came back, they sat down, they went.
Time - 7 am. It's getting light, we're approaching Cairo. The impression is the same - dusty, noisy, unfinished. Unfinished is about the houses in the city. It turns out that if the house is unfinished, then you don’t have to pay taxes for it (or very little, I don’t remember exactly). Therefore, the house often looks like this - the first three floors are inhabited, the fourth floor is bare piles without walls, the fifth floor is normal. Look psychedelic. There are no roofs on the houses at all, which is convenient if the son of the owner of the house got married - they completed the construction of a floor, another got married - another floor.
We arrived at the center, Medan Tahir Square. Everyone left, and we sit, stare around. After about five minutes, a vida comes up and plaintively asks us to get out, because he has to go to the park. Oops, screwed up. I give him a lighter, he smiles happily and wishes good luck. And the same for you. . .
We leave, the bus leaves. With longing I look after him, we became related during the trip and he seemed to us the last stronghold of reliability. I remember Chernyshevsky and his creation "What is to be done? ". My wife is looking at me with hope, expecting that I will now confidently walk somewhere. But right now, I don't know exactly what I want. To eat - no, we had a snack on the bus. Sleep - no, we slept there. O! Let's go look for a hotel. I take out my papers, find the address and the name of the hotel. While I'm rummaging through my bag, a policeman comes up. He asks if we have any problems and if he can help us. Thank you, we'll take care of ourselves. Bye Bye. Gone.
Let's go look for a taxi. Search is a relative concept - every second car in Cairo is a taxi. Here they are in a single black and white coloring. We pass the most greyhound taxi drivers near the exit, run across the road, and vote. Five seconds - a taxi stops near us. Oh-oh-oh, this is a Zhiguli penny. My relatives!! ! A bearded Arab looks at us hopefully, showing him a printout with the address of the hotel. He gives her a quick glance, smiles happily and says "OK". I poke a piece of paper with my finger - just okay ?? ? A beaming smile and a confident nod. Intuitively I feel that something is wrong, it was painfully fast for him to read the address. I take out another printout, give it to him UP THE FEET - a glimpse, a kind smile - OKAY! Damn, he can't read. . . At least in English. . . Goodbye, learn the materiel. We catch another taxi, already taught by life, I let you read the sheet upside down - oops, turns it over, peers, nods - twenty-five pounds. Yep, now. We bargain, converge on 15. We drive for 10 minutes, we leave. Carrier pokes at the sign - "Hotel LUNA". He did not deceive, they say, he brought where they asked. Thank you. A long narrow street, sleepy Arabs look at us with interest. We go to the entrance, looking for a hotel. Many hotels in Cairo are located just in the entrances of residential buildings, for example, ours was located on the fourth floor. Passed three floors - mountains of garbage and dust. All the doors are boarded up, no one is there. Creepy. Fourth floor - one door is open, or rather broken. Tin... I knock, I shout - no one. Well, let's go nafig, not much and wanted to. We go out into the street, I ask a miracle similar to the gatekeeper at the door - they say what's wrong with the hotel? Five minutes of gestures and Arabic-English words and it turns out that it was closed six months ago. It's a shame. . .
We leave, we think where to go next. Oh, let's see the subway! My wife claims that we catch a taxi - Medan Tahir Square (there is a metro station right next to it) - 10 pounds. We arrived, I asked the first Arab I met where the miitra (metro). There? Thank you. We go, we see the subway sign, we dive into the transition. We wandered a little through the tunnels, went to the ticket office. Hooray!! ! How much is a ticket? 1 lb. Okay, we have two. I found out in advance that the ticket must be kept until the end of the trip, because without it you will not leave, you will have to buy another one. We approach the turnstiles, put in a yellow ticket, the turnstile makes a mark on it and throws it back. We go out to the platform and observe. Damn, the most common metro station, only specific people ; -). The metro consists of eight cars, the first two (as far as I understand) are common, the third is for orthodox Arab women (I'm not kidding, there was a badge of a woman in a hijab and only women wrapped in this garbage entered), the fourth for women in general, the last four common. What will happen if I go to the fourth, or God forbid, to the third, I did not check (I want to live). I ask my wife - will you go to the fourth car?! ? Wild eyes, full of horror - and a categorical no. Well, no, no, let's go to the general. A more or less empty car arrived, we go in. We immediately become the center of attention. My wife is huddled in a corner and peeking out from behind me. I stand with an indifferent look, like I always go to work here at this time. An elderly Arab woman stands nearby and looks disapprovingly at Anyuta. It seems to condemn the free clothing of his wife. If you don't like it, don't look, I stand between them, with my back to the Arab woman. Anyuta decides to calm down and put herself in order, takes out a comb and begins to comb. I hear an angry hiss from behind - the arbka indignantly waves his hands, pointing at the men around. The Arabs are excitedly clapping and laughing. It seems that among the Arabs, it is impossible for a girl to comb her hair in public. We leave on the next one. With his wife already trips seem to be enough. We cross to the other side and go back. The subway car is a bit like our electric train (in terms of seating). We leave in the same place where we sat down for the first time. We go up and walk. There are Arab shops all around, prices in Arabian goat-squiggles, you have to look in a phrasebook. Getting bored, we decide to go to the zoo.
Catching a taxi, 12 lb. to the zoo. We've arrived, we're taking a look. Near the zoo grows a hefty liana tree. Beneath it is completely white asphalt and not a single parked car. The asphalt is white due to the fact that a huge colony of birds lives on the tree, which constantly crap. For the same reason, no one parks cars there. It seems that one motorist did not know this and left the car. As they say in advertising - the color and brand no longer matter, they are still not visible : -).
Ten in the morning. However, getting hungry. I'm looking for something edible. I notice the sign "Italiano PIZZA". Vague doubts about the quality are suppressed by the pangs of hunger. We go in and take the menu. It seems clean, and the prices are clearly not designed for Arabs. The wife takes the pasta bolognese, I take the margarita pizza. What drink? I ask fresh. Only tomato? Ok, let's tomato. We wait 10 minutes, bring the order. Everything but the fries. I ask where the fresh juice is, the Arab pokes in amazement at the pizza, on which there are PIECES OF FRESH TOMATOES. Damn, that's what he meant FRESH TOMATO. . . Abydno. I ask what you can drink in general. It turns out only primordially Arabic drinks - Coca-Cola, Fanta and Sprite. Okay, two sprites. We eat, we meditate, we get high. Tasty. Account pliz! £.85, plus a fiver for tips.
We leave, we go to the zoo. Pound tickets. We go, we go along the central alley. Sea of animals, but a lot of garbage. I liked the lions, not starved like ours, but aggressive and huge. How they roar!! ! Ears pawn. An Arab comes up and offers to take a picture with the cubs. 5 pounds without bargaining. We agree, they lead us behind the enclosures, we go into a small enclosure, there are three small (somewhere around 20-25 kg. ) lion cubs. We take pictures, emotions are overflowing. Anyuta played with them, class. We leave, we move on. Sea lions, feed 1 lb fish. Fed, loved. Terrarium, lots of snakes and other crawling stuff. They offer to take a picture with a live crocodile. I specify the size of the crocodile, they say small. Doubting, I check with my wife if she really wants this. So yes, he wants to. How much? For free! I don’t believe well, but I say, bring it! Bring. Really small - about a meter long. The mouth is not fixed by anything, but the beloved boldly takes the carcass in her arms. I take a picture and notice that something was put on my wife's head. I look closely - a live snake. Pretty. . . The wary wife asks what they put on her head? I reassure that this is just a half-meter snake. In the eyes of my wife, a desire to scream is displayed, but she courageously says - take a picture while I'm still alive. After the photo session, I ask the Arab to remove the snake and the crocodile. He smiles and removes the bastards. I say that they didn’t order a snake, and in general, what a joke !! ! They say it's a bonus. What for such bonuses. . . I give a pound to an Arab, he looks in horror and shouts - ten! I look narrowly - the Arab is different, not the one with whom I agreed. I turn my head - that reptile (in the sense of an Arab) is nowhere to be found. Again I give a pound, proud refusal and the answer - ten pounds, fixed price! Well, no, no, I say - I delete the pictures and part ways amicably. Evil look - okay, let's pound. that's what they decided on. We walk further, all around Arab families on bedspreads are having a meal. A flock of boys clung to us, pointing with their fingers, saying something and dying with laughter. Unpleasant. He overlaid them with three-story Arab mats, they gasped in fright and disappeared. From time to time we buy different Arabic sweets and try them. Tasty. Four hours passed quickly. Describe the entire zoo for a long time, it's just a must see. Albino peacock, fallow deer, gazelles, elephants. Sea of birds. They died with laughter in front of the cage in which... the cat was sitting. So it says "Persian cat". Well, it's time to know. We leave, we go to the Khan el Khalili market.
We arrived at the market, near the market there is a huge mosque and crowds of tourists. Noise, din - we go deeper. The market begins in an incomprehensible place and ends in the same way. This is not a market in our understanding. These are quarters and streets where absolutely everything is traded. Normal prices start in the Arab part of the market (not for tourists). You just need to know the spelling of their numbers. For example, a children's suit (we have a 1.5 year old girl) T-shirt + shorts costs 10 pounds, socks 1 pound each. Sneakers -25. Bought, it's getting dark. Looking for an overnight stay. When leaving the streets I see a large door with a beautiful inscription "Ramstor". We go. Zis wanted? Yes. A double costs £.120. I don’t have the strength to bargain, I go up with the porter to look at the room - the fourth floor, one room, a double bed, a large toilet with a gas bottle that heats water, a closet, a balcony. View of the mosque from the balcony. I go down to pay, we go up with my wife. We undress, we fall to sleep - there are no forces at all. I just fell asleep - the evening prayer began (this is when surahs from the Koran are mournfully read from the mosque through the loudspeakers). Very loud and very long. Fatigue takes its toll and we sleep for 14 hours. We wake up at 11 am. We have a snack with the rest of the delicacies, we go down, we pay off.
Walking around the market, buying up. We wanted to try the local food, but when I saw the conditions under which it was prepared, I immediately got sick of it. Imagine - kebabs are fried on an open fire, an Arab takes water in his mouth and sprinkles on them. Bee. In another cafe, pilaf is stirred with bare hands. Before us rises the shadow of dysentery and we retreat. Hunger is not an aunt, something must be decided. We catch a taxi, go to the zoo, go to the already familiar pizzeria. We have lunch. Farewell dinner - 105l.
Anyuta was allocated a certain amount of money for the market and we are returning to spend it. Eight hours of walking around the market killed my faith in everything human, on the contrary, my wife received a huge charge of vivacity. I carry bags that get heavier with every lap. I want to go home, or at least to Hurghada. Thank God the money is over and we are going to ride around Cairo. We bought a baked sweet potato - delicious, but the wife suspiciously examined it and refused to eat it. Bread for 50 piastres, similar to pita bread. We're going to the bus station. Before the bus 2 hours, again I want to eat. Next to us is the huge Ramses Hilton Hotel. Behind him is McDonald's. I don't like his food, but I don't have to choose. Seventh floor, making an order - 95 f. Expensive... We have dinner and go to look for our bus. On the way, the wife looks into some boutique and buys a Barbary bag (or Bourburi, I don’t remember). Sea of joy. Right there on the floor
They came to the square. Here it turns out that the square is empty and where our bus will stop is unknown. I start to get nervous, I run around the square and show tickets to all passing Arabs. Four out of seven showed for one place. I taught the theory of probability, so we stand there and wait for a miracle. That is the bus. Gradually people are moving in. Our bus arrives, I give tickets, we sit down, we go. This time, thank God, there are no film premieres in Arabic. We arrived without incident and stops. Hurghada, taxi, hotel. Rest. . .
