Vacation, sandstorms and a bread bicycle

It’s a tad embarrassing, but we’re going on vacation… already. Actually some friends booked a room at a resort on the Red Sea for this weekend and asked if we wanted to join them, so we said sure. It’s a resort in Ain Sukhna, only two hours from Cairo. According to good ole wikipedia:

Ain Sukhna, the Arabic for "hot spring", was named after the nearby sulfur springs. The springs originate at Gebel Ataka, the northern most mountain in the Eastern Desert. Close enough to Cairo for a day-trip, this popular weekend resort has fine beaches, coral reefs, and water sports. It is located about 55 kilometers (34 miles) south of Suez, and is the nearest bathing resort to Cairo. Some hotels in Ain Sukhna are the best on the Red Sea.

From the websites on Ain Sukhna and the resort itself, it looks amazing! I’ll wait to tell you all about it, until we’ve actually been there though. Not that advertising is ever false or misleading…

So, without entirely realizing it, I experienced my first sandstorm (pr. khamseen) the other day. It was around 2:00 in the afternoon and I noticed that the daylight was a strange color. It was almost yellow. I looked out the windows (our windows are really sliding glass doors everywhere) and between the two buildings across the way. I could see through to the far street and there was this layer of… well, it looked like smog or something in the air.

That night, our assigned sponsor and his wife took us out to dinner and asked if we’d seen the sandstorm that day. I was delighted to have actually noticed it, despite not knowing what I was noticing (apparently khamseens are typically caused by wind coming in off the Sahara in Spring, between March and May). Our sponsors took us to one of their favorite restaurants on the Nile, within walking distance from our place, called, of all things, The Fish Market. Despite the name, they had great vegetarian options, of salad, baba ganough, hummus, tahini, roasted eggplants, and great fresh-baked bread (pr. ‘aish), and we got to watch the sun set over the Nile (I can't imagine ever getting tired of seeing that).

The bread in Egypt is very important. As I’m sure many of you have heard, the vast majority of the nation’s poor here rely heavily on subsidized bread from the government and there has been a shortage due to the rapidly rising cost of wheat worldwide. As a result, the government has now ordered the Army and Ministry of Interior bakeries to bake subsidized bread in hopes of reducing this shortage. I haven’t seen any “bread riots,” nor has anyone else here whom I’ve asked, however we realize that we’re not in areas of the city that are strongly affected by this.

Bread here seems to be everywhere, and I mean everywhere. I’ve seen piles of these puffed bread “pillows”, sometimes called shammy (they’re like pita bread, or pocket bread, but sold or served puffed up with air, not flat), piled on a sheet for sale on the street corner – like used books in NY. I’ve also seen, and am determined to photograph it next time, a “bread bike” – which is a guy riding a bicycle through Cairo traffic, holding a pallet of wood on his head piled high with these bread “pillows.” It’s truly astonishing. I’ve seen a lot of things carried on the head here, mostly packages, bags, etc. One of those things that jars you into remembering you're not in Kansas (or DC) anymore.

Other sights I’ve been witness to that have either left me speechless or made me gape in astonishment with a little gurgle stuck in my throat include the propane donkeys, as I’ve mentioned before. These are donkey carts that are casually lead through Cairo traffic loaded high (everything here is loaded high) with canisters of propane by the dealers selling to businesses. We passed one in Zamalek on our walking tour. As he walked down the street calling out to the businesses, I swear he was singing a “Come buy my propane” song. They obviously don’t have specific delivery routes. It’s more like a US ice cream truck, but without the pedophile and tinkly music (or so I assume).

There’s a rattan chair maker that I’ve seen a few times as we’ve driven into downtown. I am determined to capture him on film (or in digital pixels, if you’re being picky). He has a little shop on the main road, one of many wedged in beside each other, and this guy sits out on the sidewalk in front of his store weaving together huge rattan chairs (like what you’d see in Pier One). It’s phenomenal to watch. It’s something I’d like to film, and then speed up and watch him create an entire high-backed chair from a pile of reeds in seconds.

These stores are all in a line, like books (pr. kitaab) on a bookcase, with no order or reason to their placement. Next to the chair-maker you’ll have a juice bar where oranges and lemons hang in large sacks from the ceiling and are stacked up in perfect pyramids (fresh juice here is very popular – I’ve tried the strawberry (amazing!) and a hibiscus/blackberry iced smoothie that I continue to dream about). Then next to the oranges will be a store selling chains. Not the Guido-type of chains, I mean large gnarly metal chains, hanging down like a horrific version of a 70’s beaded curtain for an S&M store; with links bigger than your foot. Took me a while, but I think they’re used for trucks and stuff… at least that’s what I’m saying until I see proof otherwise.

The pyramids have been spotted and we continue to get lost

We went to dinner last weekend at a friend’s home in Mohandiseen, an area of downtown Cairo. This is one of the neighborhoods that we were considering, and there was a four-bedroom apartment available for us, but we opted for Zamalek. After seeing her apartment though (in particular, the bathrooms), I asked Ron if we should re-consider.

The apartment was on the ninth floor, with windows more than half way around the living/dining area, great light, 3-4 bedrooms, huge wall-length built-in closet-wardrobes, and multiple beautiful bathrooms that made me drool a little (let’s be honest, a bathroom can “sell/kill” a place, right?). Oh, and it had a “pyramid view.” Now, the view was only attained after standing on her balcony, leaning out over the street below and peering through the highrises to see two hazy bumps on the horizon they were claiming were the tops of the pyramids … apparently I have now seen the ancient pyramids of Giza. I do hope to get a slightly closer look at some point.

I know I have yet to post anything in-depth about the driving here, but that’s because any outing in a car results in more tales to share, but I’ll try to get the first one posted soon (and I’m sure driving tales will continue infinitum). But as I may have mentioned, the office loaned Ron the “office car,” which is a gargantuan white Chevy Suburban. The best thing about this car is that it’s ridiculously large and has diplomatic plates on it. It’s truly the only time I’ve seen way-ward pedestrians or self-absorbed drivers get out of the way. Ron’s doing a great job driving, and people say it’s good to get used to driving in “the beast” so when you get your car, which invariably is smaller regardless of what you own, you feel like you’re in a sportscar. We have taken a few trips in it and consistently have gotten lost coming or going each time. But in doing so, we see more of Cairo, and expand our experiences, right?

This last outing was this past weekend. We decided to head to one of the local malls, yes they have malls here, called City Center. Its anchor store is Carrefour Hypermarket, which is essentially a French Wal-Mart (whee, oui, oui). We were given basic directions to head to the commissary, but after the guard post and before the mosque, turn left into the desert. Um, okay. And head through the desert on a road (… with no name… ☺) that will appear to disappear at times, but you should be able to find it again.

They were right. The road starts off normal, albeit with some gaping potholes and piles of rocks (which is normal for here) and we headed out into the desert toward masses of half-finished highrise buildings. We wound around these, stopping once to ask a taxi coming the other way if we were headed in the right direction. He said yes, (pr. “aye-wa”), and to keep going, turn left, right, left, etc. Yeah, right. But we did, passing some packs of feral dogs along the way, women washing clothes from a spigot near the construction site, and children playing among the bricks and sand.

Suddenly, on the horizon, sprouted a mall. Oh, glory of glories! And there was the parking garage that we had been advised to park on the second floor of (which was always empty as people were too busy fighting for spots on the first floor). And as it came closer, our excitement built, and then our concentration zeroed in on our need to find the entrance to the parking garage… and there it was… and there it went. We didn’t see how we could pass over the median to get to it, so we continued around thinking there must be another entrance. Well, there was, but it was for the Cairo “Ring Road,” which is essentially I-495 for those in DC. It’s a huge highway that circles Cairo. Without any other choice we merged with the masses and started to circle the city.

We continued to see lots of interesting things, gaggles of sheep (packs, hordes, families?) standing around as if they were waiting for a bus, car dealerships next to mosques, huge outdoor markets (pr. “sooks”) – photos were taken from a moving car, so forgive the quality – the inevitable donkey carts (poor things), and markets selling pearly pastel-colored toilets (need a big bag to carry those home). For whatever reason we continued to miss various turn-offs and u-turn options – I think we were in a bit of a visual-overload-haze – there was just so much going on all around.

We also came upon Cairo’s City of the Dead. The story here, according to TourEgypt.net, is:

Previously, Cairo rulers chose [this] area for their tombs outside the crowded city in a deserted location. ‘This area was used as a burial ground for the Arab conquests, Fatimids, Abbasids, Ayyubids, Mamlukes, Ottomans, and many more,’ (said Malak Yakan, an anthropologist and tour guide). The historic belief in Egypt is that the cemeteries are an active part of the community and not exclusively for the dead. ‘Egyptians have not so much thought of cemeteries as a place of the dead, but rather a place where life begins.’ said Yakan. In modern times, because of Egypt’s housing crisis, a lack of satisfactory and affordable housing for a rapidly growing population, many poor Egyptians have made these rooms their permanent homes. These invaders have adapted the rooms to meet their needs. They have used the grave markers as desks, and shelves. They have hung strings between gravestones for their laundry to dry out… The cemeteries built in the City of the Dead are much different than the western idea of cemeteries. This is because traditionally, Egyptians buried their dead in room-like “burial sites” so they could live in them during the long mourning period of forty days…

And we came upon the Citadel. According to TourEgypt.net:

The Citadel is one of the world's greatest monuments to medieval warfare, as well as a highly visible landmark on Cairo's eastern skyline… The area where the Citadel is now located began it's life not as a great military base of operations, but as the "Dome of the Wind", a pavilion created in 810 by [Governor] Hatim Ibn Hartama… Between 1176 and 1183, Salah ad-Din (Saladin to Westerners 1171-1193 AD), an Abbasid Ruler, fortified the area to protect it against attacks by the Crusaders, and since then, it has never been without a military garrison. Originally it served as both a fortress and a royal city.

It obviously has a long and varied history and we’ll go back to tour it, but it was amazing to see as we drove by. We finally were able to turn around in a possibly-legal u-turn area, and headed back. We opted to nix the Carrefour attempt for the day, and instead head to the commissary. We drove around the ring road and saw signs for Maadi (one of the words I need to be able to recognize quickly in Arabic, as not all the signs have English). And then we didn’t. I love this place! Suddenly we knew we’d done something (else) wrong as we were now heading out of the city again, into more desert with large cement factories pumping away. Ron knew that the cement factories were outside of Maadi, so we did another u-turn, and headed back with fingers crossed. We do have a good map of Maadi and Cairo, but by this point we were off of it… and we need to obviously purchase one that extends farther as I’m sure our driving-getting-lost adventures will continue.

On the route back, we passed trucks carrying enormous blocks of limestone. They obviously mine it out here. Ron mused out loud if they were building another pyramid somewhere. When you look at the size and mass of these blocks, it gives you great pause to think of the pyramids being built over 4,500 years ago (they say they were constructed around 2570 BC), without the aid of flat-bed trucks, cranes, machines, etc. There are times when the ingenuity and determination of humans, for a GOOD cause, continues to impress me.

Two Weeks: “Do you believe it yet?”

Today, Monday, May 4, 2008, marks our two-week point in Cairo so far. Granted, we arrived at 9pm at night, but let’s not get too picky. As Ron said numerous times on the trip over here, and we keep remarking to each other periodically, “Do you believe it yet?”

Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. For the most part it’s sinking in, slowly. It certainly helps the sinking-process when I’m sitting in Arabic classes, or walking down the street, driving past donkey carts, wandering through any store other than the commissary, looking at signs, menus, etc., or staring at the Nile. I can’t say it feels like “home” yet, but we are still in temporary housing, so I think once we get our stuff, and Clifford and Max from Ohio (as you can see from the photo, they’ve tested the carriers and are ready for the journey), life will feel more “real.” At least life within our “home.” It may take longer for life outside to feel like “home” but that will come in time.

I do find that I’m eagerly awaiting the arrival of our stuff. If everything goes as it should (which is often the qualifying phrase here), our first shipment will arrive in the next two weeks. This was full of mostly clothes, my cameras and lenses (except what I carried on the plane), we think all our DVDs (we can’t remember exactly where we put them), personal files, and some kitchen stuff. The remaining items should arrive about two months after the first shipment (bed, desk, couch, bookcases (though we really didn’t need these, I learned later), all kitchen-ware, bikes, books, etc.). Now, I did pack with the possibility in mind that we wouldn’t see either shipment for three months, as I’d heard that had happened to other people, but I’m hoping we’re one of the lucky ones… Our car should arrive in three months as well, as it’s coming by boat (chug, chug). It really is an amazing process, and we’re certainly aware of how lucky we are that we are allotted such a large shipment. There is a weight restriction, however, so depending on how much we acquire here, we may have to re-think what we bring back – computer books can be so heavy. ☺

As I mentioned, I started taking Arabic classes. I was lucky in that a week ago a new session started, so I was able to jump right in. I’m taking two classes, twice a week, Sunday and Tuesday mornings (five hours a week). They start at 8am, but I can’t really complain as all I have to do is get up and go down two flights. Hardly much of a commute. Though when I heard it started at 8am, I had that visceral undergrad reaction to an 8am class, but it’s really been fine. I have Colloquial Egyptian Arabic first, in which we’re learning basic greetings, conversations, etc. My name is… (Ismi Julia); Good morning, good morning (response)… (sabbaH ilxheer, sabbaH innuur); I live in… (ana sakna fi elMa’aadi). I’ll have you know that I just did all those from memory – I’m so impressed. ☺

After this class, in which I’m the only student, I come back upstairs, create my little flashcards, and then at 11am, return for my Modern Standard Arabic class. The reason for the break is that the teacher (ostazza Suheir) has a Colloquial II class between, which I am certainly not ready for. The MSA class has two students in it (I think it makes a huge difference for me having such small, or actually individual, classes – plus it’s the same teacher for both so things are consistent). In MSA we study standard Arabic, starting with the alphabet. Prior to these classes I’d look at the signs everywhere and just be boggled that anyone could see a word in amongst those beautiful fluid squiggles. However, after dutifully studying my letters (with my flash cards and a patient husband who’s willing to quiz me), I can actually pick out letters and sounds here and there.

There are technically only 28 official letters in the Arabic alphabet, however, as with all languages, there are “exceptions.” So there are an additional five “short vowel” symbols, which are dashes, circles or small squiggles, placed over or under the preceding consonant. And keep in mind that “preceding” is to the right, as it’s read from right to left – unless it’s numbers, as in license plates or prices, which are read left to right – got it? Clear as a Cairo sandstorm, I know. And finally (I think, though I’m only on class two), there are three additional symbols indicating double letters, or a slight catch in the voice (like a quick stop). No problem! Keep in mind that it’s been, well, decades, since I truly studied any language and that was German (in high school), Italian (in undergrad), and American Sign Language (for fun, ten years ago). And I never felt like any of it really stuck. Though I will say that it’s amazing what a 30+ year brain has wedged in its recesses. When I was first practicing my flashcards, and I’d come to a word such as “who” my brain would actually cycle through “wer” (German), “chi” (Italian), and the physical sign for who in ASL. This should be fun.

So like my sister-in-law Heather in Tokyo (who’s taking Japanese), nephew Max in Tokyo, and nephew Colin in New Jersey, I’m studying the alphabet. I was feeling fairly confident yesterday after learning my initial 28 letters, only to find out that these shapes I’d committed to memory, change, sometimes drastically, when they are attached to other letters – like in a word. Unlike English, which has printing and cursive, Arabic has only cursive. So letters attach themselves to each other all the time (bummer). So now I’m studying these new formations. I wonder if there’s an Egyptian Grover who can help me?

I am surprised at how much I’m enjoying my lessons and learning. My friend Perry, in Portugal, suggested that I start labeling things around the house as I learn their name in Arabic. Since she up and moved to a foreign country (Portugal, if you didn’t catch that) years ago and I remember receiving the sobbing calls in the first few months claiming that she’d never learn the language and feel like it was home, and then next time I saw her she had a hard time switching back to English, I figure she knows what she’s talking about. So our house has little pieces of paper taped everywhere. I’m just hoping they don’t get moved and I invert the word for book (kitaab) and table (tarabeeza) – though I don’t think it will cause an international incident. Egyptians are so friendly and helpful, they’d just laugh and correct me. Perry also suggested that I dive right in and start using what I’ve learned. Making mistakes is all part of the process. There’s something freeing about being in a place (city, country, continent – pick one) where no one knows you. Less pressure to be whom you think you should be.

I think we all (including Chuckles and Ricky, who routinely spend their days basking in their chairs in the sunroom like two old men on a porch), are very excited to be here and look forward to the adventures to come. As Ron keeps asking about everything from a walk down the street to dinner in a restaurant, “Is this bloggable?” And I happily reply, “Everything here is bloggable!”

GIRL TALK: Down and dirty

Okay girls, here’s the real truth to living in Cairo (men, you may want to skip this part, it’s best not to know too much):

Hair – For those of us affected follicley by humidity (whether it’s those of us whose curls tend to expand, to those others whose do’s flatten), I’m finding that living in a dry country such as Egypt might be a really good thing. The lack of humidity makes hair happy; which in turn, makes us happy. Full circle of pure happiness. I may have uncovered the perfect-hair resort, or perfect hair-resort, you choose. ☺

Mani/Pedis – I wasn’t sure what I was going to find in terms of manicures and pedicures. However, it’s become very clear that getting a manicure or pedicure in Cairo will not be a problem. Deciding where to go, will. There are salons all over the place, in all neighborhoods. I’ll have to start asking around for some recommendations or referrals. I’ve also heard that you can arrange to have them come to your house. Further exploration in this area will continue.

Purses – For many of us, finding the right purse can be a life-long, never-ending, ever-changing pursuit. For others of us, we’re just extremely finicky and our tastes change with the wind. Bottom line is, many of us have a lot of purses (yes, I’m confessing a personal issue here). So before coming here, I actually spent some time thinking about what purse might be best for my new life in Cairo (I know most men would be boggled to learn that any thought went into this at all). I decided on a small purse, one just to carry money, ID and keys, with a long strap. I found it, bought it, and on day two here, learned that it was exactly the wrong purse to bring. Lovely.

Overall, there is very little personal crime in Cairo. Though pick-pockets and purse-snatching does occur. So I learned to never use a purse that is worn across the body (ie., long strap), and to walk facing the traffic and carry my purse/bag on the opposite side of the cars (so drive-by snatchings can’t occur). So I messed up. But you know what this means… purse shopping in Cairo!! For those of you on the edge of your seats wondering what I’m doing purse-wise in the interim, I’ve opted for a synch-top backpack. Works fine; just not very cute.

Fashion – I’ve already mentioned the “fashionably forward” crowd in Zamalek, and the bedazzled shoes, but I have to drop a note about Egyptian clothing. There are many women here wearing the traditional gallibaya (long, loose, “dress”), some in colors, some all black with the full headscarf (called a “niqab” – pronounced “ni-kab”), showing only their eyes, though the latter is definitely in the minority. Most other women opt for more traditional western dress, but some still wear the headscarf (“hijab”). Some of the younger women, teens and twenties, fall into this latter category. And I have to say that I’ve noticed that Egyptian women have fantastic figures. They cover their hair with the hijab, many in the most amazingly beautiful fabrics, and wear very close-fitting tops with long full skirts (often denim). (I have yet to learn how they fasten the hijab, but I will attempt to find out.) The young men’s clothing tends to be very western, though some men do wear full gallibayas (typically older men, in basic white, cream, gray, or brown shades), others wear pants with a gallibaya shirt. I know very little about the traditional dress, but as I learn more I will share. I do know that neither men nor women, beyond childhood years, ever wear shorts. And some older men wear variations of head-coverings, sometimes a turban-type thing, others a while cap, but I have to find out more about these as I’m not sure of the reasons for them, nor the names. (You can see some of these items in the photos from The Khan, though I know they're dark.)

Shoes – I’ve already covered these some, and I promise pictures (it’s like looking at schools of shiny, colorful, sparkly tropical fish), but I will add that my MBT tennis shoes and crocs (of the mock and genuine variety) are working out perfectly. The only issue is dust. Which actually makes the crocs ideal, as I can just hose them off when we get home.

Temperature – So I hear it’s hot here; really really hot. Like 140 degrees in the shade in the height of summer. But currently, in April/May it’s beautiful, simply perfect. Sunny during the day (always), warm, but then evenings turn cool enough to wear a light sweater. But since true ladies, and certainly “diplomat wives,” don’t sweat and merely glisten, I’m sure I’ll have no issues regardless of the temperature. I also hear that winters here actually get cold enough for coats. But there’s still no chance of snow in Cairo. We may have to “hop” over to Switzerland for a quick snowball fight in December.

THE KHAN – Everything you want, even if you don’t know you want it

In addition to the pyramids of Giza (there are pyramids all over Egypt, so one must specify), which are less than 40 minutes by car from us, there is also “The Khan” as a major tourist draw. It’s officially called Khan el-Khalili, but us locals refer to it as “the Khan” (okay, everyone does, but I’m trying to acclimate here!). So this past Monday Ron agreed to take me down to the Khan, just to experience it.

Our first adventure was taking the metro. Cairo has a metro system similar to Washington, DC’s in that they have the 3-4 colored lines. We’re lucky that in Maadi we’re only a few blocks from the metro. I won’t mention that we got lost in those few blocks, but managed to go around again, and this time take the correct off-shoot from the traffic circle and find the metro right there. We went in, up to the window (like an old-fashioned train station), paid our 1LE each, and got two paper tickets. We climbed the stairs over the train tracks to get on the right side (I’m still getting my bearings and find my north and south meters are often wrong). The metro system here has “women only” cars, but there have been discussions about it moving from the front of the trains to somewhere in the middle. I was told to merely look for the gaggle of women and go stand near them, when I choose to ride the train alone. I forgot to even look for it when Ron and I were waiting. It would by my suggestion that they just paint these cars pink, make it easier for everyone to locate them (though surprisingly, no one’s asked for my opinion yet).

After a few minutes the train arrived and we clambered aboard. It was very similar to DC or NYC subways, seats along the side, rails and poles to hang on to, straps (for those who attain to be straphangers, like nephew Max in Tokyo). The only difference I’d say was the lack of air-conditioning, though on the day we rode it it really wasn’t necessary, but I could see that in the summer it be a whole different experience. Men and women were riding in the car, so I don’t know how necessary the “women’s” car is, though I might feel different without Ron next to me. At one stop as we were standing there, holding our straps, in front of the open doors, some boys walked by and waved at us. How nice. ☺ I opted not to return the gesture. Ron told me later that he was ever-vigilant about making sure there wasn’t any casual touching, brushing, or basic grabbing on my persons. And there wasn’t.

So we exited at Sadat Station, in downtown, right near the Egyptian Museum. Now, when I say exited, I should clarify that it was more of a mosh-pit like shove-down. I’ve been in subways and trains in Boston, DC, NY, London, Amsterdam, Germany, etc., and never have I experienced a mob-scene like that. I never felt afraid, per se, however I was gripping my purse/camera tightly and doing my best to move forward, hoping that Ron was close behind me. We finally burst onto the platform and I turned to see Ron emerging from the fray. I just had to laugh. The concept of those entering the train standing to the side to allow those exiting to do so, is completely foreign – obviously. Good to know. I’ll bring my battering ram or tazer next time.

Once outside, we headed to the line of taxis. Most were empty of drivers, who were sitting on a wall nearby. Ron leaned in to ask the one driver in a car about going to the Khan, and we were immediately surrounded by loud and fast Arabic. Apparently we needed to go to the first cab in line, though somehow we ended up in the second one. Regardless, he took us to the Khan and we exited onto a busy street of tiny stores. Ron led us around the corner where it opened into a large grassy square, bracketed on one side by a huge beautiful mosque, draped in tiny Christmas lights (I guess they’re just colored lights in this context). SIDE NOTE: Egyptians, or at least Cairenes, love strings of colored lights. They decorate cabs, buildings, trees, store fronts, feluccas, and mosques in draped and wrapped strings of lights, neon lights, etc. In some areas it’s like a carnival. There was something almost Hollywood-like about the whole scene. Hundreds of people milling about, in all forms of dress, with every nationality present (tour buses were coming through with great regularity).

We summoned our strength and determination and dove into the fray of the Khan. You know when you’re on an amusement ride, and you sit down, strap in, and the ride starts to move forward and you enter through doors into a dark or other-worldly place just before the car jettisons forward? Well, this was the same experience, minus the plastic sticky seats. We walked into a small alleyway crammed full of shops (not an experience for the claustrophobic or agoraphobic). It was a bombardment of sights, sounds, and all sensory sensations. There was tourist chachka as far as you could see, pyramid replicas in all shapes, sizes and materials (I think I saw a blow-up one), sphinx replicas, brass plates, bowls and pitchers, jewelry of all kinds (some wearable, some just to gawk at), t-shirts, keychains, everything a tourist would ever buy. In addition to the stuff, stuff, and stuff (it was like our old apartment), there were hawkers everywhere at every turn, trying to get you into their store (which has the same stuff as the next guy’s store and the next after that). They are relentless, constantly yelling at you, offering a “free look,” actually yelling, “I don’t know what you want, but I know I have it.” I laughed out loud the first time I heard that, but by the seventh, it had lost its humor. Most of these guys stop at physically dragging you into their shop, some don’t. But if you make it through the first section, you find yourself in an equally Kafka-esque section, but now we get into the marginally less-touristy merchandise, and depending on your digging skills, some good buys.

Gallibayas are the traditional shirt or dress worn here. They come in a huge range of colors with beautiful beading or embroidery and are cotton, long-sleeved, loose and comfortable. They are all over the Khan and you hear non-stop, “Gallibaya for the lady?” “Gallibaya for man?” Ron’s favorite was, “I have your size.” I’m sure we’ll purchase a gallibaya here or there in the future, but for now we declined, constantly.

The Khan is laid out like a labyrinth or a hedge-maze made out of shops. In addition to the crazy twists and turns of the narrow cobbled streets, there are stairways and alley off-shoots everywhere. This is probably one of the only places in the world where it’s relatively safe to allow a stranger to lead you down a dark alley; here you’ll end up at to a tiny shop where gold jewelry is being made before your eyes, or appliqué wall-hangings are being sewn, or “genuine antiquities” are being sold just to you.

At one point Ron led me, much to the excitement of the hawker on the street, up a narrow stone staircase. At the top we found ourselves in an open-air courtyard with more shops all around the edges. We wandered into a few here, as they were less crowded and the sellers were, well, less obnoxious, than the main street guys. Here we could actually browse or “look for free” as the hawkers promise relentlessly. We saw some beautiful brass ware, from name plates, to bowls and pitchers, to basically anything that could be made out of brass.

In addition to the items you see for sale, most of these merchants can also make things to your specifications. Unlike the states, here you often buy directly from the artist or designer, or if they can’t do it, they know someone who can create what you want. It’s an exciting option to be able to requisition a piece of furniture or art or kitchenware, as opposed to buying the latest from China in a box with too much packaging. I’m sure we’ll partake of this option during our time here (though I’m not sure Ron knows that we’ll partake of this option…).

The thing about the Khan is if you have the luxury of being able to return a few times, and not be constrained to the tour bus slots, you can explore it first, peek at things here and there, get an idea of what you might be interested in (silver or gold jewelry, beads, gemstones, clothing, glassware, marble, brass, bronze, etc.), get recommendations from others, and then go back with a purpose. There are some fantastic shops wedged inside, and it just takes a little time, effort and determination to find them. But even if you’re only here for a few days, you have to at least attempt the gauntlet of the Khan.