There was nothing left on the official tour. Most of the group talked with Magdolin about renting a van to take them to a local bazaar. As neither David nor I shop, we had Magdolin get us a driver to take us, along with Ryan, out to Askara, Dashur, and Memphis so that we could see the Red Pyramid, the Bent Pyramid, the Step Pyramid and the capital of the Old Kingdom.
As we headed out to Sakara we left the tumult of Cairo and entered the lush palm jungle/forest groves beyond. Gone was the uniform brown/dirty white of the city and instead all was brown or green covered in dust. The road ran alongside an irrigation/sewage canal. The farther from the capital the more ramshackle the vehicles sharing the road with us got, to the point that we passed men leading and riding camels and donkeys.
I stared at the palms. Planted however long ago in tidy rows, they had unknown green crops growing beneath. In less than 100 yards we went from the lush yet dusty palm jungle to the absolute, lifeless desert. Out there were the Red Pyramid and the Bent Pyramid. Formerly these had been in some sort of demilitarized zone. That fact is obvious as there are no vendors and no tour buses.
The Red Pyramid is named for either red graffiti that once used to be on it or the reddish-orange blocks used to build it. It was built by the father of Cheops/Khufu, the builder of the Great Pyramid. It's only 30-40 feet shorter than the Great Pyramid. Unlike it, there were no throngs of tourists. There was one car parked in front of it. The entrance was halfway up.
Up we went as an Indian family came out huffing and puffing. "It smells terrible in there. Like bat poop," the father informed us. I paused. If an Indian says something smells bad, that means something.
At the entrance sat a robed peasant. He was trying to pass himself off as an official, but I'd already bought tickets for the site at the entrance to the park. There was no ticket to enter. He wanted baksheesh. We told him, "On the way out."
Unlike the Great Pyramid, we didn't ascend at forty degrees, we descended at forty degrees, a looooooonnnnggg way. It didn't smell like bat poop to me so much as acrid urine or ammonia. It was bearable. The small corridor opened up into another corridor leading to the burial chamber. Unlike the smooth surfaces of the King's Chamber in the Great Pyramid, the burial chamber had vaulted ceilings and the floor looked like it had been dug out. I took another opportunity to Gregorian monk chant "Ice Ice Baby."
As we crawled up the shaft on our way back out, I mentioned to Dave to prep his pocket so he would have 5 to give the "official." When I exited, I handed him my 5LE. He wanted more. He wanted American money. I lied to him and, for one of the few times in my life, didn't regret it. "All my money's in the car. Sorry." I'd given LE, but Dave gave him dollars. Oops.
From there we drove over to the Bent Pyramid, so named because halfway up it changes slope. No one is quite sure why. It's the only pyramid that still has its limestone casing intact, but the sheen, if there was one, was very dull indeed.
From there, we rode over to Memphis, a still thriving metropolis that was at least 2500 years old when Herodotus wrote of it. It's didn't make it another 2500 years. "Memphis" now is little more than a garden with some statues in it. The greatest of these, a massive one of Ramses II, had fallen over long ago and was lying on its back. The guidebook said it was badly preserved; as with nearly everything else we've seen, in any other country it would be a national treasure.
From there we headed to Dashur to see the Step Pyramid, the one that started them all, supposedly designed by the great architect/magician/wise man, Imhotep. On our way, our driver tried, yet again, to convince us to stop at the "Carpet School! Ten minute tour! Good deal! You buy!" "No! No! No! La! La! La!" we told him repeatedly.
The Step Pyramid was undergoing a spot of restoration so it had some scaffolding on it, but it was still neat. We probably should have gone there first because it couldn't help but be a bit of a let down after the Red and Bent. There were tombs next to it that we walked into. "Tour guides" (aka locals) grab hold of tourists at the entrance and start blabbering and make you pay them whether you asked for the service or not. The guidebook had warned us about them so we waved them off. I figured I can make up just fine for free. I told David and Ryan how the Step Pyramid was built as a monument to Napoleon after he'd defeated the Dragon on this magical chariot driven by penguins. I guarantee that's as close to the truth as what the "tour guides" were telling the tourists.
Back at the hotel, we met up with most of the group for one last meal at a restaurant nearby. Local men kept offering to escort us but that was only so they could get baksheesh from the restaurant for bringing customers. A plain-clothes police officer, decked out with a walkie-talkie and pistol, shooed away our unwanted escorts and walked us to the restaurant, even though we told him we knew where we were going. He tried to get baksheesh from the restaurant and then us. Someone gave him money and he went away.
Most of us weren't really hungry so we just dabbled with appetizers. We really just wanted to have one last time together. As David and I agreed, the trip had easily surpassed our wildest expectations and the only way we could have gotten a better tour group was if we got the Swedish Bikini Team.
To finish, I feel it must be said: The Bangles are dirty liars. All over Egypt and I saw no one, living or engraved, "walk like an Egyptian."
P.S. As I told the group: other people tend to want to talk about majestic antiquities seen when they recount fantastic vacations, but I'm the ur-American so I stick to sexy body parts, alcohol induced antics, and looking down on poor people who are simply trying to make a living. I'm a travel writer the way the proud owner of a crushed velvet painting of dogs playing poker is an art connoisseur
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