There comes a time in every long backpacking trip that you hit your first big low. Sometimes followed by a high…and then another low. While it is not my nature to focus on the negative, I think this particular segment of my trip has burned a memory deep in my mind. One in which I will carry, both the good and the bad.
Continue reading “Racing around Rwanda”
While I could have spent endless days walking around this city, I decided to make my time shorter here so that I could see some friends down south.
The city was a stark contrast to Barcelona – it was certainly more clean, and there was a buzz in the air that I couldn’t quite understand. I didn’t try to because I simply liked it.
I took a 3 hour train into Madrid. The Atocha train station was one of the coolest I’ve seen in years due to the massive indoor garden tucked inside the train depot. I walked less than fifteen minutes to my hostel, Latroupe, and immediately walked back out into the young night.
I found myself at the largest palace in all of Europe, the Palace of Real Madrid. While in line I met a new friend, Manuela from Belgium. She was Italian, spoke multiple languages and worked in the sports industry in Brussels. Meeting her in the que really flipped my not so great morning around. I accidentally went to the wrong location for my 40€ tour – for the record I despise group tours but I thought the palace had limited tickets per day and it was my only way of getting in last minute. Turns out all I had to do was pay for another palace ticket in person on the spot. Honestly really grateful for her refreshing change of pace.
We carried on past the Palace and into wine and tapas. Of course I had to get my new Australian friends to join since they were around the area. It turned into a fun last minute party. Manuela, Louis and I had coffee together afterwards. It was a cute lil girls night out. Then she had to catch a business dinner and Lou and I carried onto more wine. I promised myself I would stop taking advantage of all the red wine once I leave Spain.
Ended the night feeling incredibly grateful for solid female company and the ability to talk freely about the future and some of the more scary things regarding it. We said our goodbyes and I headed back to my hostel where I would grab my backpack and take the late night train into Seville. Spain has felt so lively each night that I felt perfectly safe roaming the streets after midnight.
I purchased the last minute flight from Marrakech to Cairo knowing it was my best port of entry to Arica…yet also knowing that the US government has deemed it a class 3/4 zone of terrorism and that all travel there is highly advised to cancel. Whatever that means.
I researched the visa entry ahead of time, and apparently got denied for having the wrong information in my application. It is quite possible I got got, however for $25 it seemed like a learning experience. One that would set the fate for if I actually enter the country, or just pull a Tom Hanks and live in the terminal for a casual 36 hours. I was prepared for both outcomes with a flight out of Cairo. Later found out that spending the night in the terminal never would have worked because they have a TSA pre check before the TSA check. It’s ridiculously high security that would only let me in 3-4 hours before my flight.
So thank goodness my visa did go through, on the spot, in person. I was contemplating the outcome when I met this engineer who sat next to me on the flight – was scribbling all sorts of calculations in his notebook like a mad man. We got to talking and he reassured me he is Egyptian and I should easily get a visa on the spot for $25. No problem.
Sure enough he was right. Mohammed was so kind as to wait for me on the other security check side. It was midnight and while I luckily had a hostel pre arranged in the hip area of Zamalek, I unfortunately failed to prearrange a pick up. While I really don’t like to plan this far ahead when I am always on the go with limited internet, I am learning it is helpful in these foreign countries, really ANY country, including America, to prohibit the airport taxis take advantage of you.
Typically in these situations I am reassured that I know I can pull out cash from the airport atm, and ideally get Wi-Fi to google the average price for a ride. In this case, the airport Wi-Fi was difficult to access requiring a local number and I was prepared to pull out Egyptian pounds to have a cab driver take it all.
While I did not show it, I think Mohammed could sense the concern in my eyes each time I said, well it will all work out. I was certainly not his burden and all this was a problem I got myself into. He did not owe me anything but to my surprise, he wanted to help. Throughout this trip, I am constantly reminded how people just want to help. And it’s not always just in exchange for money.
Mohammed saw I couldn’t connect to Wi-Fi, offered his number to use, and then when the Uber app was down he said he was getting my ride as a welcome to Egypt gift. His sister was waiting outside when we approached. The air was thick, the night sky was lit up with all sorts of fluorescent lights, and the pure chaos of the arrivals area was more than I expected. I pushed any worry at bay and smiled, soaking in the hustle of everyone around. I was in Cairo!
They were both so kind as to wait with me for the Uber Mohammed called. Also, there was no point in which I doubted his man because he was pure throughout our conversation on the plane. Finally he speaks to his sister in Arabic and they offer me a ride toward the direction of their house and my hostel, where he would call me another Uber that would be easier to get. All of this plotting could scare my younger self into saying “no thanks, I’m good” however I once had a travel friend years ago tell me “I like to constantly place my faith in humanity” and that expression has never left my mind. I certainly didn’t want to jump into a taxi after midnight and wanted to believe the best in these two people standing in front of me.
We get into her 1993 Toyota sedan, and I am humbled by the modest life of this mother with two kids. It was incredibly late and I could easily see how she would deny the ride. Yet, they both were insistent on helping me get safely to my hostel. We pull over fifteen minutes into driving on this crazy four lane road. The road didn’t even have white lines and people were just merging quickly into random lines. The hazards are flashing and Mohammed says “the ride is coming”. It’s almost comical at this point that we can just switch vehicles ON THE HIGHWAY. Apparently Ubers will pick up anywhere here. I was still not panicked and completely trusted them.
Transferring into the Uber we say our goodbyes, and exchange numbers should they ever be in Colorado. I then arrive at the hostel at 1:45am and feel incredibly exhausted as I check in. Kareem, the owner, is calming and helpful as he shows me my private room. When it comes time to pay he tells me they don’t have a credit card machine. This was common in Morocco too, and I assume they want to avoid all the fees. Plus, cash is king.
I explain that I’ll need to get to an ATM and Kareem says, no problem you can pay in the morning. I am relieved and say, “thank you. I’m so hungry but also so tired. I think I’ll go to bed”. I am then surprised when he replies, “you’re hungry? I will show you a shawarma place” I kindly, yet shortly reply, “no, sorry I don’t have cash” and he simply says “no problem, it’s my welcome to Egypt gift”.
I’m starting to wonder what the heck this welcome to Egypt gift thing all about. The past two people have said this to me and I’m embarrassed that I was expecting something far more different, purely based on negative stories others told me. I take him up on the shawarma and go to bed with a content belly and heart. I am so used to locals treating me as a walking bank account. It’s a fair exchange in my opinion, I contribute to extorting your community, which thus becomes reliant upon tourism, and in return you learn to take me for as much as you can.
Maybe there is something more to this place and these people, and that is such a beautiful change of pace.
I thrive off of the word “no” because it means I need to prove that anything is possible. So when many people told me to avoid Greece during this economic crisis, naturally I had to go. Continue reading “My Personal Greek Tragedy”
Well it’s official. I booked the one way ticket to Auckland, New Zealand. It was only $529 so I kinda had to jump on it. Continue reading “So you booked a one way ticket?”
