I had fallen on the stairs on the river boat and it had opened up a one inch by half inch gash that was pretty weepy. So by the time we reached Cairo I was really desperate for more bandaids. Do we take an Uber or the hotel driver? First, the Concierge says we can get an order delivered to the hotel. But what is the fun in that? I want to shop, peruse, find treasures. Can we uber? Yes but beware if they ask for a higher fare beforehand, it happened to a hotel employee just this morning. In which case just cancel and rebook, she says. Ok then. Next question. Which pharmacy should we go to? MISR Pharmacy just down the street, 15 min walk. Oh, should we walk? Mmmmm…just don’t talk to anybody, she says. We have had enough of ignoring street people and being followed. Ok, Uber it is.
But it turns out the pharmacy for some reason is closed and the Uber driver is saying (via Google Translate) he can take us to another one. In an abundance of caution Mr A has already jumped out of the taxi prepared to abandon ship. But I thought he said the pharmacy moved across the street, but there is nothing on that side of the street but deitrus. And Google says MISR is open til 2am so none of this is making sense. Finally we understand that the pharmacy IS actually closed (metal roll-up doors are down) and we decide we don’t want an off-the-books ride even tho the guy seems ok (the road to hell is paved with guys that “looked ok”).
We should have figured out what the shop looks like beforehand, but 2 pharmacies had the same picture and the next closest MISR has pictures of a barber shop…
A says the pharmacy we went to the other day is “just around the corner.” So against my better judgement we start walking back the way we came. I am a DIY traveler but I’ve read too much about not going out on Egypt streets without an escort. And this is Giza, not Cairo. Now we understand why people in Egypt walk in the street and not on the sidewalk. Sidewalks are completely unpassable filled with trash, animals, wet debris, sand, broken pavement, sleeping people and other large abandoned objects. And now everybody is staring at us. A few kids yell their English phrases at us (“hello! How are you doing” which as some point turn into a few “f you”s). We don’t talk or look at anyone. We decide to cross the street to the other side which contains less trash. Some little kid starts following us. We ignore him.
We decide that Google Maps has the pharmacy in the wrong place – it’s actually half a mile more down the street. In for a penny, in for a pound. I decide to put on my scarf and my sunglasses. I feel somewhat less conspicuous although I am sure I’m wearing the scarf wrong. We pass the Carrefour but decide to come back to shop once we achieve the main objective. Further down the sidewalk, like a scene out of a movie, a large Muslim lady in hijab and moustache is arguing with a security guard with one meaty hand on her young son’s shoulder, surely extolling her sons innocence of whatever he’s being accused of. We reach the pharmacy after several near misses with turning cars. My New York trick of following locals across the street doesn’t work here, cars will literally drive right into pedestrian groups. Your distance to the person in front of you must be less than 12 inches. Then again the driver was about 14 and could barely see thru the windshield.
Upon entering the pharmacy, they immediately ascertain we are fish out of water. With the help of Google translate we get bandaids. Waterproof? How big is the cut? Then antibiotic ointment. And then the magic yellow pills (Antinol). Diahhrea? Yes (for I am wondering whether it will help with my diverticulitis flares). He says (I think) 175 egp. 175? He must mean 1075. I pull out my credit card. Then I come around the counter to look at his screen. Unflustered, he turns the monitor towards me. 175 egp! Less than $4 US! I pay in cash.
In the meanwhile A is calling an uber. It’s really not clear where on this busy & rush hour street the driver will stop. It might even be illegal to stop, although the concept of actions that are forbidden while driving in Egypt is hilarious. So we move to the upstream start of the Carrefour street parking. The kid finds us again and this time tries to touch A who angrily brushes him off. The kid curses and moves on. I think more people stare at me with the scarf on than off. We try to talk but the rush hour sounds drown us out; neither of us can hear each other.
Eventually the orange MG shows up. As it’s rush hour, he has classical music on to soothe nervous foreigners, but the volume is blasting in order to drown out the incessant honking outside. It’s like being in a very loud elevator. He pulls out. Flocks of kids playing in the street scatter as he accelerates towards them.
Boys drift between the rush hour cars selling huge 2 foot balloons. There are a disturbing number of 6 year olds walking by themselves down the street.
A woman desperately peers thru a backseat window, entreating them to buy her Kleenex packs. An older woman and a boy resolutely set off across the street weaving between the moving cars.
2 men on a motorbike have a honking dispute with a VW bus that escalates in volume and duration until the bus changes lanes away from us. “No big deal” my ass. Plenty of road rage on these mean streets.
Finally the driver makes his left turn towards Mena House but we get stuck behind 3 kids driving a donkey cart. The donkey is walking so slow that the kids can easily alternate between walking and riding.
With no further misadventures we reach the refuge of our hotel. Another adventure in the books!
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