If you read this blog with any regularity then you’re well aware that I don’t spend a lot of time in swanky hotels. I’m more the quaint bed & breakfast type, when I can find it, or I’m bragging about the huge discount I found on Expedia. However, on this trip we were in top hotels all the way. In Cairo, we checked into the Fairmont Heliopolis.
Leaving the Airport
One of the things I remembered from my previous trip to Egypt was the wide open spaces between the airport and Heliopolis. Once we had dealt with the absence of our luggage on that trip, I’d sat the backseat of a car wondering just how far we were going to drive before we got to anything.
It’s not that way anymore. It’s like the stretch of LBJ between I-35 and DFW Airport. While itused to be out in the middle of nowhere, it’s now chock-a-block with restaurants, hotels and other buildings. Outside the Cairo Airport was the same thing. What’s more, I barely blinked before we were entering the main thoroughfare of Heliopolis and almost immediately we arrived at the Fairmont. So the first thing you might want to know about the Fairmont is that it’s close to the airport.
Between two lobbies
The Security Routine
Here’s the drill for most hotel properties in Egypt. (The Cecil in Alexandria and the Dahab Paradise were exceptions to the rule, but pretty much anyplace else put you through this.) The properties are all fenced and gated. You pull up to a guard house with a barrier across the driveway. Your car is thoroughly checked.
First they get the ID of the driver and question him. Then he has to fill in a log. Then they do a physical check of the exterior of the car which includes looking under it with a mirror. Some places also had sniffer dogs. The driver opens the trunk and the dogs and/or metal detectors are used to check out the contents. There are usually a group of guards and after they’ve conferred with one another, the barrier is lifted and you drive through. Someone is usually standing nearby with a machine gun. Some kind of welcome, huh?
Ayman, our niece’s husband, assumed we were in the newer part of the hotel and drove through the older portico to deliver us to the Towers. Only we weren’t in the Towers. The bags were pulled out by the bell staff and Ayman drove away, but once inside we were directed across the way to the original part of the lobby. It was late and I was ready for bed.
Now the reason we were staying at the Fairmont is that we were part of the wedding party and that’s where they were staying. We like to keep our accommodations in two digits if we can, but we were splurging. I have to confess that I was glad we stayed in the older part of the hotel. The new part had that edgy clean look, but I’m a sucker for crystal chandeliers and other gaudy looking hotel lobby decor, like the replica of a pharaonic boat in the Fairmont lobby.
The check-in hasn’t even begun, but I’ve already run out of words, so come back next week to see how we liked our room.
Now that I’m home, I’ve tried to educate myself about the pilgrims who crowded into the Cairo Airport the same night I arrived. I shared some of the answers last week, but I left Bill and I standing with our niece in a huge, noisy crowd. At first there was the initial small talk of arrival, but soon it was apparent Mirette thought it was high time for Ayman to rescue us from our perch among the milling pilgrims.
Looking for Ayman
After a few minutes of chatting, Mirette began to scan the passing cars for her husband, with the international expression of, “where is he?” Soon she was describing the car Ayman was driving to Bill. Then they began to discuss how far away the car had been parked. When they moved the conversation into Arabic, I got worried.
Then Ayman himself hurried up, but on foot, not in the car, which was perplexing in and of itself. He explained the crowds became too large, so the police shut down one of the roads. He’d found another parking spot as close as he could get, but we still had to walk some.
Midnight Rambles
Even though the time was nearing midnight, walking didn’t sound like a problem, as long as we had a cart for the luggage. Then we came to a set of stairs and I wasn’t really happy about that. The collapsing handle on one of the bags quit working before we ever left Dallas and would have to be carried. The condition of the sidewalks and streets suggested rolling the checked bags would also be a challenge, but I saw no other alternative.
Each of the girls grabbed a carry-on bag, leaving the larger bags to the men. Then, at the bottom of the stairs, I found a cart! Either someone had left it or God had deposited there for my benefit. Either way we were saved. We loaded up the new cart and continued on our way.
Ayman and Bill pushed the luggage-laden cart through the obstacle course. A few feet along the sidewalk and then down a curb. Then a good long haul through parking areas, weaving in-between cars when necessary. Up a curb, over a sidewalk, down a curb, across a street, up a curb and finally we could see the car.
Halting the cart, each of the fellows picked up a bag to put in the trunk. While their backs were turned, the cart took off like a rocket. I shouted and ran after the careening cart, but my shouts were lost in the other noises around us. The cart skewed off the sidewalk, fell to its side and dumped the bags into the street.
A couple of pilgrims watched from afar. You’d have thought they were watching moss grow on a stone for all the reaction the cart and I got. Bill and Ayman looked at me as if the bags strewn in the middle of the street were somehow my fault. All I could think of was the bottles of scotch. You do remember the scotch, don’t you? Would my suitcases be full of glass shards and alcohol-soaked clothes?
We’ll find out together. Come back next week for my first impressions of Cairo outside the airport.
It was a late night arrival in Cairo, so the activity inside the terminal was actually pretty calm. A flight arrived from Saudi Arabia about the same time as ours, but otherwise customs and baggage claim was empty. Preoccupied with my own arrival I wasn’t really focused on other passengers, but it was clear we were in the Middle East.
What’s With the Guys Wearing Towels?
In the terminal, hajibs and galabeyas were more frequent than blue jeans and yoga pants, but one guy really got my attention. To my uninformed eye, it looked as if he were dressed for a toga party. His white garment came to about mid-calf and had been torn all the way around the bottom. The texture was towel-like and it appeared one shoulder might be bare. Something like a a shawl was pinned around his other shoulder. He was definitely wearing shower shoes, but whatever the reason for his outfit, staring would be rude, so I kept my eyes down.
Islamic Pilgrim Wear
If there had only been one guy like that, I might have forgotten about it in the hustle and bustle, but I began to realize there were a lot of men wearing variations of the same thing. Some ‘togas’ were longer than others. Some men had both shoulders wrapped. One hem would look freshly torn with ratty looking strings hanging around the bottom, while another hem would be so smooth I wondered whether it were torn at all.
There were also variations in the textures of the garments. The first ‘toga’ I had spied looked like a laundry mistake. If you’ve ever washed a few towels and then discovered them still in the washer several days later – damp, wrinkled and soured – then you know what I mean. I didn’t get close enough to smell him, of course, but that’s what it looked like. He was the anomaly in the crowd, but there were other subtle differences. While some had the lush looped-terry of a luxury hotel’s complimentary robe, a few had the even more exclusive look of a waffle-woven linen hand-towel No loops there.
Please understand, I’m making all these observations out of the corner of my eye or from under lowered eyelids. I didn’t want to appear to be a gawking tourist, even if that was exactly what I was. I started trying to figure out if this was totally a male thing and I was able to ascertain very quickly it was. The women wore traditional galabeyas and hajibs, and most were of the gloved, head-to-toe, black variety mentioned in my initial blog about this trip. Days later, I would begin to realize there were women dressed in simple white variations of this head-to-toe manner, traveling with some of the men, but if they were at the airport I missed them.
I kept quiet and kept my eyes to myself as much as I could, but I couldn’t help but wonder what the deal was. Did an entire group of conventioneers get their luggage stolen and this was the best the hotel could offer? Your imagination does weird things in a vacuum of information.
Where are Mirette and Ayman?
Step-by-step we made it through customs and retrieved our luggage. We were almost out of the terminal, but with the exception of professional drivers holding signs, we hadn’t seen anyone greeting our fellow arrivals. Just outside the sidewalk was busy with people cuing up for cabs.
Have you ever looked around a place, trying to get your bearings and missed the most obvious thing. I was looking so hard to find my niece or her husband, that I missed a wild cacophony right in front of me. When I finally got my bearings, I started to wonder if I was about to get caught up in a riot.
On the other side of a thoroughfare filled with cabs was a huge crowd. Many of the men had on the togas I had noticed inside the terminal. Bill headed across the street and I followed him, wondering if he’d even noticed the rowdy crowd. They weren’t rowdy in a soccer fan kind of way, it was more purposeful and less emotional, but nonetheless quite loud. What a kaleidoscope of sight and sound to begin our sojourn in Egypt!
No matter how pleasant an Atlantic-crossing flight may be, I need a break when it’s over. Hanging out in an airport may not be the most fun I can have, but it can be some fun – and this time it was. It had been a while since I’d been to Heathrow and I have nothing but nice things to say about it.
Welcome to Heathrow
Our bags were checked through to Cairo, which was a blessing, but we had to change terminals. That’s never fun. At Heathrow that means you take a bus to the first terminal, follow the purple signs forever, take another bus to the other terminal and get delivered to a skillfully-organized dime-dropping opportunity.
After our brisk walk following the purple signs, I was ready for lunch. We arrived in the departure lounge and were a bit overwhelmed. This place is a shopper’s paradise and they have some pretty good food, too. After checking out the possibilities at the terminal map, we made our way to a place that sounded sort of pub-ish.
My Post Fish & Chips Grin
Hungry at Huxley’s
One nice thing about Heathrow was their choice of restaurants. You weren’t stuck with your usual food court choices. I was craving authentic fish and chips, so we made our way to Huxley’s, described on the Heathrow website this way:
“With its handsome dark-wood chequerboard floor and leather banquette seating, Huxleys could pass for a new-wave gastropub, but the menu has no such pretensions. Expect simple compilations of the best ingredients: slow cooked pork belly, old English pork sausages and 21 day aged steak. Thick-cut sandwiches, pie and mash, all-day breakfasts, beer battered fish and chips and sticky toffee pudding continue the British theme. “
I had to look no further than front and center on the menu to figure out what I wanted and Huxley’s did not disappoint. The British Classic was everything my taste buds had been craving – and the minted peas? Marvelous! Bill had some sort of sandwich and a beer. I wanted a beer, but I opted for a diet soda instead. I was still trying to watch my weight at that point and I was busting the calorie budget with my beer-battered fish.
As we waited for our food to be served we observed what others were having and admired something called an Eton Mess as it was delivered to another table. Fresh strawberries, crushed meringue, whipped cream and ice cream. What was there not to like? We toyed with the idea of finishing our meal with the same, but there was no room in the tummy after I inhaled all the gorgeous fish and chips.
Let’s Go Shopping
To me, the star of the shopping mall was Harrod’s. Not only is it a British classic, the space it occupied was spectacular. I saw at least six things that I wanted to come home with me before I even entered the shop.
Bill was attracted to the duty-free shopping. That’s where he discovered that I had been right about the Jack Black Scotch. We could have bought it for a great price at the airport and not had to sacrifice pounds in our luggage.
There was another little shop that represented another brand now associated with all things British. I’m not a Hogwart fan, but I had to take this picture for Hannah Beth. We were able to enjoy both floors of the Heathrow Terminal 5 shopping opportunity before they posted our gate on the departure monitors, but we managed to keep the credit cards in our pockets.
I caught up on my travel journal – it’s always quite detailed in the beginning, but by the end of the trip I’m not such a faithful diarist. I wandered around a bit, trying to take advantage of this chance to stretch my legs. I also made my pre-boarding potty stop. That’s when I found this guy biding me farewell and I couldn’t resist capturing him for you.
Our flight was called and we boarded. Come back next week for our exciting arrival in Cairo!
I’m of the opinion that travel is more interesting if there are problems. “Everything was perfect,” might make for a great vacation, but you could bore your friends to death with that kind of travelogue. Lost luggage, crazy GPS instructions and rude hotel clerks make better copy. Hopefully, I won’t put you to sleep today, but our travel to Egypt was without incident. That all changed once we got to Cairo, but that’s for later.
I Flew on American and I Liked It
This may not be a newsworthy item for you, but it was for me. I’ve sort of hated American for a long time. For years, every travel horror story I lived through began with, “I was on an American flight…” I carried that anti-American chip on my shoulder for a long time, but in recent years I noticed that other airlines were doing their part to be as awful as I thought American was.
Most recently that was Lufthansa. I’d always counted them on my favorites list, but then I flew them to Frankfurt. The plane rattled so much I thought it was made out of Tinker-Toys. Bill claims the flight wasn’t that bad, but if I hadn’t been sitting next to him, I would think he must have been on another plane. Bottom line, I could no longer say my worst flights were American.
My other problem with American had to do with Love Field and the Wright Amendment. As a Dallasite, I love Southwest Airlines and Love Field. The Wright Amendment tied the hands and feet of both, in favor of DFW, and I didn’t like it. I also loved Legend Air, which was a Love Field underdog that I maintain was run out of business by American. I’m always for the underdog. I go out of my way to avoid Walmart. I won’t buy anything on Amazon. I hate most chain restaurants, too.
This American flight snuck up on me. (Yes, I know snuck isn’t really a word, but I like it better than sneaked.) I wasn’t the one to make the reservations and I thought we were flying British Airways. It wasn’t until a few days before the flight, when I was researching baggage allowances, that I realized my British Airways flight was going to be on American. By then it was too late to do anything about it and I knew Bill was tired of hearing American Airlines Hysteria. I just lived with the revelation.
A Brand Spanking New 777
So we got to the airport, parked our car, rode the shuttle to the terminal and checked our luggage curbside. It was easy. It was a late-night flight, so the airport was pretty boring. We had a nice chat with a lady in the L’Occitane En Provence store. In fact, she sensed my concern and we actually prayed together. Finally it was time to board.
Let me tell you, our plane was so new I think it just rolled off the assembly line. Nothing rattled. Everything was pristine. There were bells and whistles I hadn’t even thought to wish for – and we were in economy. Even the food was decent. I watched a couple of movies. I was even able to sleep!
So, American Airlines, I know you weren’t losing any sleep over my grudge against you, but I want you to know it’s over now. I can easily say my best flight ever was on American. Singapore Air still holds my best-food-on-an-airline award, but the shepherd’s pie on American’s return flight was pretty decent. (BTW Sing Air, I liked your old paint job better. This new one is boring.)
One of the worst things about this trip was packing for it. Along with everything else you need for a 16-day trip in a third world country, we needed room for formal wear and lots of gifts. I needed conservative arm- & leg-covering outfits for the cities and resort wear for beaches. I got everything in the bags pretty early on the day before we left, but my husband didn’t join me for the weighing ritual until evening. The lights stayed on pretty late that night.
The Midnight Hysteria
If you have a luggage scale then you know the weighing ritual. You put everything you need in the bags, strap on the scale and then weigh. It takes awhile for the scale to register the weight, so I need my husband to hold up the bags while we wait for the scale to do its thing. Then you know how much you have to take out of the suitcase. We hate this, but as you know, it has to be done.
I started out with one bag weighing right at 50 pounds, but the other bag was more than 10 pounds over. The first step was to cram even more into the carry-on bags, which were already full of the gifts. On our last trip to Egypt, our luggage had gotten lost and we’d arrived without any gifts – bad form for Egyptians and I wasn’t going to repeat that mistake. If nothing else got there, I was going to have the appropriate gifts and because my husband believes presentation is everything, we had gift bags, tissue and ribbon for each one.
What Could We Live Without
To me the greatest weight offender was the three gift-bottles of scotch. I wasn’t only worried about the weight. I envisioned suitcases full of scotch-soaked clothing waiting for us on the conveyor belt in Cairo. I had suggested we pick these gifts up in the duty-free shops of the airport before we ever bought them, but Bill was having none of it.
The main problem with the scotch was that the bottles had to go in the checked luggage, which was already heavy with toiletry bags. I have to admit that my husband, who packs light anyway, was very generous about giving up items I thought were vital for him, like that second pair of jeans, but I resented those bottles of scotch every time I had to remove another item from the suitcase.
There were tears before we were through, but we got it done. Does anyone besides me remember when you got TWO checked bags per person – even in economy? The airlines may have downsized their allowances, but my needs have not been reduced.
The Final Verdict
The packing experts brag about cramming everything they need for a month-long trip into a carry-on, but while that method sounds like a good idea to some, I have to remember I’m married to a guy who thinks presentation is everything. You would not want to travel with me if I had to keep juggling the same two yoga pants and three t-shirts around day after day. I sort my pictures by what I’m wearing!
There’s one more thing I have to tell you. I was right about the scotch. Hubby had been convinced the duty-free shops wouldn’t have the right brand and if they did, the prices would be prohibitive. Wrong on both counts. They had exactly what he wanted and the price was good. So, if you need liquor gifts at your final international destination, go with the duty-free option. And come back next week for the next step in our jouney.
I just got back from Egypt and I want you to visit this amazing country. You’re not going to believe some of the exciting adventures I had while I was there. I hope that as you read my blog in the coming months, you’ll start planning your own trip in your head. As much as I want you to go, I have always been totally honest with you – sharing the good and the bad. So it is only fair that I start this series by warning you that Egypt is not an easy country to visit. You have to overlook a lot to see what is valuable, but there is great value. In the coming weeks I will rave about spectacular hotels and jaw-dropping sites, but I have to start here, with the not-so-pleasant reality of Egypt today.
Apartment Buildings
Then and Now
This was my second trip to Egypt. The first was in 1996 when terrorism was an occasional, rather than a daily, thing and the only terror incident associated with Egypt was an attack on a busload of tourists in 1990. The world has changed a lot since then. Days before I was scheduled to leave for this trip, bombs went off in two different Coptic Churches. It didn’t stop us from going, but it did give us pause. It shouldn’t stop you from going either, but you need to know what you’re getting into.
The imminent threat of violence was the most obvious difference between this trip and the one we enjoyed twenty years ago. Security was a pervasive presence, everywhere we went – whether we were visiting a museum, an airport or a church. Every time we entered our hotel we had to put all our belongings through a scanner and ourselves through a metal detector. I was glad for the security, but saddened by the need for it.
It was the same thing pretty much everywhere we went and you just got tired of it. Take a romantic walk on the beach and come back to the hotel for a thorough search. By the time you prove you have a right to be there and you don’t have any WMD’s, the romance has dissipated. This adds to the stress of travel and distracts from your ability to really relax.
One evening we accompanied a niece and her husband to a hotel where they stayed on their honeymoon. They wanted to take a walk down memory lane. Our taxi went through one inspection at the gate to the property and we were put through a thorough search at the front door. Then as we headed out to the pool to look around, we were stopped because we were not actually guests at the hotel. We had to go to the front desk, explain ourselves, show them our room keys to a sister property in town and give them a passport to hold before we were allowed into the pool area. By the time we actually made it down there, we had more thoughts about the intrusion of security than we did Maggie and Shady’s honeymoon.
Forget Lowe’s or Home Depot, Shop for Home Improvements Streetside
Related Changes
The threat of terrorism has devastated the country. Tourism has been at the center of Egypt’s economy for a very long time, but they have nothing to take its place and little with which to woo the tourists who actually show up. Yes, they have some of the most splendid sights in the world, like The Pyramids, Luxor Temple, The Valley of the Kings and such, but the hassle associated with visiting them is challenging.
I thought Egypt was the dirtiest place I had ever visited the last time I went. Well, now it is beyond dirty. It’s down right filthy and much of it has been abandoned. Whole blocks of Cairo and Alexandria’s city centers are just empty graffiti-covered buildings, surrounded by piles of trash. Everywhere we went, unfinished new construction showed signs of being abandoned years ago, when their hope of an Arab Spring turned into a nightmare. Don’t plan on wearing the same clothes over and over. A day of touring will render you and everything you are wearing disgusting. You either need to pack more or plan on a budget for laundry.
An Egyptian Family on a Motorcycle
And Then There’s the People
Egyptians, as a whole, are wonderful. They are happy people who want to get to know you and they love pleasing you. They want you to love their country the way they do, but right now they are a little embarrassed – as if you caught them between working in the yard and getting a shower. They’ll point you towards the freshly planted flowers, hoping you won’t notice how dirty and sweaty they are.
However, they are also frustrated and tired. At almost every hotel we observed someone having a meltdown in the lobby and it was usually an Egyptian guest. Life is hard. The economy is impossible. Traffic is horrendous. Everything is harder to do than it should be and after a ten minute walk your white shirt just isn’t white anymore. Still, given the chance, most of them will bend over backwards to accommodate you and try to create a smile.
At the same time, we noticed there is also a trend that distances the female population from visitors. There was a greater number of women completely covered from head to toe. During our last visit, most women dressed very conservatively and the majority covered their heads, often with a bright colorful scarf. Many would be sharply dressed, while sporting a more conservative hijab. There were some who wore the more old-fashioned gallabeya and hijab, but only a rare woman was covered and veiled in black.
This time gallabeyas and hijabs were the norm. Young women wore leggings or jeans with a tunic, but the hijabs were everywhere and they were not brightly colored scarves, but solid blocks of neutral colors. However, women covered from head to toe in black were no longer rare and I noticed most of them also wore black gloves. They were moving shadows with just a sliver of their eyes showing – distant, aloof, unapproachable.
In the Cairo Museum we saw a young couple taking a selfie. The woman was completely covered in black. We wondered at the incongruity of hiding yourself and then taking a selfie. The young man’s outfit was standard casual fare, but she was covered in plain black without even a bit of embroidery. A lot of mixed messages there.
So I will tell you the story of our trip. I’ll remind you of the difficulties from time to time, but I’ll leave it to you to remember that everything was dirty, inconvenient and noisy, whether I mention it or not. Come back next week and we’ll hit the road.
In less than a month we’ll be winging our way to Egypt for a family wedding. While it’s primarily a family trip, you can rest assured that Museum Girl will be taking in the sights. The itinerary is firming up and I thought I’d share a few highlights.
Keeping the Main Thing the Main Thing
As excited as I am about the rest of the trip, the reason we’re going is to participate in Bassem and Mariam’s wedding. We’re all agog with excitement. Bill and I will arrive in Cairo late in the evening on a Saturday night and be whisked away to the Fairmont in Heliopolis. On Sunday afternoon we’ll attend a luncheon for all the families at an “oriental” restaurant. When I wondered why we were having Chinese food, I learned Egyptians call Middle Eastern food “oriental.” I learn something new every day.
Monday is the day of the wedding, and it is also a national holiday, so I’m told I will see the residents of Cairo enjoying themselves in parks and other areas of leisure. I’ll spend the day getting all gussied up for the wedding. Egyptians know how to party and they expect guests, especially the couple’s families, to get all decked out. I’ll be wearing a long formal gown bedazzled with crystal beads. For the church ceremony I’ll wear a sheer over-blouse cinched by a jeweled belt, which will cover the spaghetti-strapped straight bodice of the full-skirted gown. Pictures to follow.
Let the Sightseeing Begin
On the day after the wedding we’ll be transported to the elegant Mena House Hotel, in the shadows of the pyramids. Some folks tried to convince me to hire a guide for sightseeing for the day, but 8:30 AM was entirely too early to start a day of touring, especially after partying late into the night in the ballroom of the gorgeous Fairmont.
So instead, we’ve arranged to be transported mid-day and ease into the sightseeing. We’ll enjoy the gardens of the Mena House, walk around with our mouths agape at the splendid architecture of the place, dine around the pool and then watch the Sound & Lightshow at the Pyramids from our room’s balcony. Who knows, there might even be time for a dip in the pool. Personally, I plan to have at least one picture of me taken in the pool with the Pyramids behind me.
Then we’ll do the Pyramids. Since we’ve already done the Giza Plateau, I plan to go further afield and check out the Step Pyramid at Saqqara and the Red Pyramid at Dahshour. I’m also interested in the Meidum Pyramid, but I’ve been told it is too far out – drat. Instead we’ll go back to Giza and see the Solar Boat Museum, something that’s been added since our last visit.
A Family Reunion Extraordinaire
After our second night at Mena House, we’ll head to the airport and make the short hop to Sharm el Sheikh. Some of the family lives in the beautiful city by the Red Sea and others will have gone there when we headed to Giza. We’ll have a family reunion of sorts for about five days along one of the most spectacular beaches in the world.
The diving and snorkeling are supposed to be awesome, but I’m not much of a guppy. You’ll find me at the Marriott Naama Bay Resort pool with an exotic cocktail of my choice somewhere near the waterfall. Yes, the beach is beautiful, but no way am I going to smear sunscreen all over and then sit in the sand all day. Not this girl’s idea of a good time. I’ve been promised activities like a star-gazing visit to the desert, some shopping opportunities and other attractions.
In the evening, look for me along the boardwalk. It’s one of my favorite memories of our last journey to Egypt. Every evening the tourists come out in all their sunburned glory to stroll along and enjoy the wide variety of entertainment available on every side. On our last visit the Macarena was all the rage. I wonder what earworm will bite me this time.
On to Alex!
We’ll fly back to Cairo and then have a driver take us to Alexandria where we’ll be in the center of the action at the Cecil Hotel. This elegant old dame gives a nod to Alexandria’s heyday with plenty of modern updates. What’s more, I’m supposed to be within walking distance of many of the sites I want to see – that is if I can ever cross the street. I remember the traffic being deadly in Cairo and Alexandria is supposed to be more of the same. Pedestrians don’t have the right of way and stoplights are merely suggestions. I’ll be right across the street from the beach, but may never actually get to the sand!
My wish list for Alexandria is long and includes a visit to a Coptic monastery on the way back to Cairo. Once back to Cairo, we’ll visit Old Cairo and seeing the famous churches there, something I never got to during our other visit. I think we’ll spend our final nights at the Fairmont. We have to be to the airport bright and early for our return. Then it’s back to the grindstone!
That’s it so far for Egypt. Keep dropping by. I’m not sure what I’ll be up to in the weeks to come, but I promise not to disappear.
When the possibility of visiting Birmingham first came up, I checked out the city online. The city seemed to be a foodie haven with a great art museum and a nice botanical garden, but comparing their hours to our flight schedule and the hours of the thing I can’t tell you about, I wasn’t going to have time to do anything about any of that. So, I dutifully went about my business. Still, something in my subconscious kept clanging. I couldn’t exactly recall why, but I knew I really wanted to see the museum.
Perhaps, Maybe, Possibly
One day at lunch, before we took off on the Birmingham adventure, I mentioned to Hannah Beth that I regretted we weren’t going to have time to do the touristy thing. She assured me the museum was well worth seeing and mentioned a couple of possibilities we might have for seeing it. I assured her I had checked for evening hours, so that wouldn’t work, but skipping the final session – that would do.
I just happen to be one of those people who believe God is personally involved in my life. I also believe that if I’m willing to put Him first, He does everything he can to fulfill Psalms 37:4, “Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desire of your heart.” In fact, He’s proved it to me too many time to deny it.
So, while we were keeping an ear to the ground to find out how significant the final session would be, God was arranging to keep things ahead of schedule so that we could get out in plenty of time to make it to the museum. You may call that a coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidences.
My Wedgewood-esque Fireplace
An Embarrassment of Wedgwood
If you’ve been hanging around this blog for very long, then you know the Decorative Arts Wing of any museum is my prime objective when I make a visit. I love Decorative Arts better than anything else produced from the artistic mind. I can spend an entire day in a Porcelain gallery – a passion I learned from my mother.
What’s more, Wedgwood,especially their Jasperware, (matte porcelain with relief decorations) is among my most favorite porcelains. Don’t believe me? Take a gander at the photo of the fireplace my husband and I designed for our home. You don’t have one of these unless you love Wedgwood. It was inspired by two I’d seen in Mount Vernon.
Along with representative Wedgwood pieces gracing the mantle piece, there are various Wedgwood and Jasperware pieces spread throughout the house. For good measure, my everyday china is Wedgwood. Not Jasperware but Wedgwood. So imagine my delight when I glanced over the map of the Birmingham Museum and saw three galleries designated by the word “Wedgwood”.
The Dwight and Lucille Beeson Wedgwood Collection
If you love Wedgwood the way I love Wedgwood, then go ahead and book the flight. I’ve been in a lot of museums and so far, I’ve never seen one with so much Wedgwood. I haven’t been to The Wedgwood Museum at Stokes-on-Trent yet, but that’s only because it didn’t exist decades ago when I visited the city. I can assure you, this is the most Wedgwood you are going to see anywhere outside of Britain.
The galleries contain mostly Jasperware in a rainbow of hues, but they have samples of other forms of Wedgwood collected by the couple. I swear I could have visited the museum every day for a week and been perfectly happy studying the exhibits in the three galleries. Here are some samples.
That blue and yellow vase on the jade pedestal would be great in my yellow and blue French decor but the dark blue wine cooler with the white flowers must be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’d leave it in the museum for others to share.
Giving the Rest of the Art Its Due
Even if you don’t like Wedgwood, the Birmingham Museum of Art is still a good thing to see. Porcelains from other places are prevalent throughout the museum, but there are also paintings and statues and other things to enjoy. I did run through the balance of the galleries at a high speed and then rushed back to gander at the Wedgwood a little more. However, I did get these two postcards to prove the museum has variety.
Buying the Book
In this digital age, when you can find almost any piece of art you’d like to see by searching it online, art books might not seem a good investment to some people. Maybe other people spend their time cruising museums online, but I’ll confess, I want to be there and see it in person. Seeing it online is better than not seeing it at all, but it’s not even on the same continent as first hand observation.
By the same token, while I have broken my habit of buying a book in every museum I go to, sometimes I just have to take a catalog home. This was one of those times. In fact, I anticipated facing down the fury of my husband if the only thing available was some $160 hardback number.
I guess God was doing me another favor, because there was a reasonably priced soft cover edition of the catalog – only it had a large sticker designating it as the display copy. I chatted up the clerk, who was a volunteer. She looked in the stockroom – nothing. She offered to have someone take a gander in the warehouse in the next day or so and call me if they had anymore. I just stood there clasping the display edition as if my life depended on it. “I’m leaving town this afternoon,” I all but wailed. “Oh we can ship it to you,” she assured me.
I put off replying to her suggestion by telling her about my fireplace. Then I mused as to what in the world I would do if there were no more of the books in the warehouse. She decided to sell me the display copy at a discounted price. BINGO! I’m getting a whole lot better at this negotiating thing than I used to be. I’d have paid full price just to have it, but I’m sure the fireplace story did the trick!
The flight home was not as trouble free as my flight to Birmingham. The flight was delayed for hours and as a result I know more about the food vendors at the Birmingham airport than I should. I’d been on a diet, which had been seriously threatened by the fast food offerings served to us at that thing I can’t tell you about, but what damage had not already been done got done. So much for dieting. And so much for Birmingham. Come back next week and see what I’m up to.
So my boss had just arrived back in the States from someplace else that I can’t tell you about to join us at the thing I can’t tell you about. At the end of the second day after a meal provided by the thing I can’t tell you about, there was supposed to be a worship and praise service, but the boss needed a change of scenery. One more large meeting room filled with people and he was agoner, so we escaped.
Hannah Beth Helps Us Play Hooky
Since the meal we’d been provided was lukewarm hot dogs and stale potato chips (no offense intended, but that’s what it was), we wished we’d decided to play hooky about 30 minute previous to our boss’ confession of meeting room fatigue. A nice dinner would have been a treat. Still, we weren’t going to waste an opportunity for some team building activities outside the meeting room. So Hannah Beth took us on a tour.
Now I know young folks to things differently than I do, so this is not meant as criticism, but merely an observation. While Hannah Beth has been to Birmingham several times and has the inside scoop on what to do, she depends on GPS for directions. Her modus operandi is to take off in the direction which she thinks something is and then use voice commands to tell her phone to find the way. This means she has one hand fully on the wheel, while she holds both the wheel and the phone in the other – all the while chatting up everyone in the car.
Yep, I’m a Nervous Nellie, so the entire time we were driving in Birmingham, I’m in the backseat praying we actually get to the place we’re headed. Since I’m here to tell the tale, you know my prayers were answered in the affirmative, but while we were playing hooky from a praise and worship ceremony, I felt a little guilty about praying for protection. Proves God listens all the time, I guess.
“Vulcan is the largest cast iron statue in the world and Birmingham’s unofficial city symbol. Standing high atop Red Mountain, the 56-foot-high statue has an observation balcony on its pedestal for a panoramic view of the city. Vulcan is patterned after the mythical Roman god of the forge, a nod to the city’s powerful position in the iron and steel industry in the first part of the 20th century. The statue was created as Birmingham’s exhibit in the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis and won the exposition’s grand prize. The museum at Vulcan has interactive exhibits and displays that portray the region’s history and progress. Museum open Monday- Saturday, 10am- 6pm; Sunday, 1pm- 6pm. Observation balcony open Monday- Saturday, 10am- 10pm; Sunday, 1pm- 10pm. Admission.”
I couldn’t have said it better myself, but you can learn more on the actual Vulcan Park website.
Our boss covered the entrance fee which was just a dollar or two and we climbed the stairs to the top of the hill. Someone who will remain nameless desperately needed to visit the rest room. Even though the sign said the museum was open, it wasn’t and that’s where the restroom was. In desperation, the drain in an unlocked utility room sufficed as a toilet. That’s all I’m going to say about it, but as tired as we were, that was just the crowning glory of the day and we got a serious fit of the giggles.
Above It All
Though the tower is lovely and the park is very nice, the real draw to visiting the Vulcan Tower is that you can climb up in it. So we did, still giggling like fools. Now yours truly is has a slight case of acrophobia. OK, so maybe a large case, but as we took the elevator up I was distracted by the giggling. We walked across a steel grate which was a bridge to the steel grate which was the balcony around the tower. There was also a fence, but all the ground around us was visible from our vantage point.
At first I just looked out toward the horizon and enjoyed the scenery (see picture from previous post). Then I looked down. MISTAKE. I tried to be cool. I tried standing away from the rail and looking toward the tower. Didn’t work. I started getting lightheaded and broke out in a cold sweat. It was time to go.
On the way back to the hotel we stopped at a grocery store, to get some necessities. That list might have included individual bottles of screw top wine, but if it did, I’m not telling. As much fun as this adventure was, the best is yet to come, so make you way back here next week.
jane sadek 