AMSTERDAM – Gouda for Us
We know what you really want to know: Yes, we briefly strolled the edge of the Red Light District. Yes, we checked out the “coffee shops†where one can order a latte as a chaser to a wide selection of joints. No we did not partake. But we did have a mellow day in this lovely city. Despite the cold and gray, it’s still a lovely place with quiet, efficient trams, thousands of bicycles and peaceful strolls along the canals.
We checked out one of the more popular cheese stores and, although it stocked a couple dozen Goudas and a respectable variety of other European cheeses, it couldn’t hold a raclette flame to our beloved C’est Cheese in Santa Barbara.
The highlight of our day was a visit to the Van Gogh museum. More interesting than any of the paintings were the artist’s small sketches and correspondence between Vincent and his brother, Theo; his friend/colleague, Paul Gaugin; and his doctor. Ear incident notwithstanding, Van Gogh’s life was not filled with the “madness†we always seem to associate with him. He was well aware of his anxiety and voluntarily chose asylum when he felt overwhelmed with depression. But his writing and his work were very deliberate – far from “crazy†— rather than some episodic side effects. He was quite in touch with his feelings as well as his craft, which lasted a mere 10 years before he committed suicide at age 37. Who knows what a prescription for Prozac or Wellbutrin might have done for him back in the day.
Food highlights: Frites with Indian chutney sauce; waffle with chocolate & whipped cream.
ZOMBIES and MUMMIES
Our flight into Cairo touched down early but queuing for our visas and passport control canceled any hope of us getting to our hotel before turning into zombies. In the meantime we enjoyed people watching. There was the couple that was “shopping†for their visa and presumably their relationship. (“Honey, should we get the one-month or 6-month visa? Which is the better deal? Will I continue to be this sweet and agreeable if I continue to wear these 4†high heels for the next month?â€) Then there was the Richard Simmons lookalike — except he was dressed in a brown tank top, matching brown exercise shorts and hiking boots; Richard would have chosen something from a more colorful palette. He was carrying a matching brown book bag, just large enough to hold his shortwave radio and large headphones, a dilapidated copy of “Egypt†from the late 1960s Time-Life “Great Ages of Man†series (I suppose it’s still current enough given the age of this civilization), a bamboo back scratcher, and a small, soft, weed-like thing that at first seemed like some sort of delicate duster, but shed profusely so we stopped thinking about how it might be used by Richard II. Checked into our hotel at 4:00 a.m.
MAKING SCENTS of CAIRO
First impression: Massive. Loud. Unbelievable traffic. Praying to Allah as we cross – I’m not kidding – freeways on foot.
So, we like to think of ourselves as fairly experienced travelers, wary of scams and hustlers, however we readily admit that in our sleep-deprived, zombie-like state, we were not at our best on day one. Not once, but twice, in the span of less than an hour, did we find ourselves trapped in papyrus and perfume shops. (And would you believe there was a special discount – just for us, my friend – at both places.)
The first place was actually fine and we enjoyed sniffing lots of essential oils and reluctantly letting the saleswoman dab too many samples on our wrists and forearms. Of course, we didn’t buy anything. Then fully marinated, we continued wafting our way toward the museum when we stupidly get waylaid – again — and find ourselves waiting for the requisite mint tea while the, uh, “doctor†tells us all about the healing properties of his many oils. He takes a look at my droopy eye lids and bags, which are looking particularly paunchy after about 4 hours of sleep in the past 2 days, and he asks “Old or new?†I mutter something akin to “Old, like this routine†and he proceeds to rub a little something on my forehead and temples. Feels great. Does nothing for the bags. Sale lost.
Then he does the same to Alan who has already chugged his tea and just wants the hell out. But wait, it’s time to bust out the menthol. Keep in mind we already smell like an Isla Vista head shop sans patchouli and musk. So Doc rubs some essential oil that smells like Vick’s Vaporub on Alan’s chest and then strokes it up his neck. Then he alternates closing off one nostril at a time and makes Alan snort. He continues the ritual until he thinks Alan can blow productively, at which time he hands Alan a couple squares of toilet paper and commands him to do so. Doc shoves my nose to within a few millimeters of Alan’s mouth, does a CPR compression or two and says something about “fresh breath.†I find this all very amusing and I nod in agreement with the ‘doctor’ about the health properties of essential oils. I inquire about the cigarettes he chain smokes and it seems they lack the same benefits.
So the good times roll on until the doctor’s daughter is directed to put the Vick’s on my chest. Not bad until the upward neck stroking begins and I’m sure she’s going to bust my windpipe with her firm, oily palms. I am relieved when we move on to the nose-blowing-breath-checking segment. Fortunately, the CPR portion of the routine does not crack a rib.
Now the rest of Cairo’s touts can quite literally smell a couple of rubes heading their way.
SHOW ME THE MUMMY
Reeking from flowers, menthol and cigarettes, we finally made it to the Egyptian Museum. There were dozens of guards, police and other uniformed types outside, a camera check and x-ray machine yet, surprisingly, no security anywhere inside. The museum itself is dark and dingy with most item descriptions typed on now-yellowed paper or scrawled on scraps of old lined binder sheets. No fancy halogen pinpoint lighting; no audio tours; no slick handouts. However – and this is a huge however – we were able to come within INCHES of everything including King Tut’s innermost (solid gold) and second (gold and inlay) sarcophagi as well as plenty of other objects. These guys knew how to accessorize.
We saw scores of intricately painted sarcophagi, coffins and coffinettes, even those for animals (e.g. pets, food, sacred, offerings), toys, boomerangs(!), vestments, statuary, pottery, jewelry, housewares, giftware, better shoes, bed & bath… oops, sorry, got carried away… The point being, the collection is enormous and we were able to experience it very, very close up.
Food highlight: kushari is typical Egyptian fare and we went to one of Cairo’s most popular places for it. Kushari is not for those avoiding carbs, but it is a vegetarian’s delight with protein complements and great flavor. The dish consists of macaroni, rice, and a little vermicelli, with a mildly spicy mixture of tiny lentils and some garbanzo beans heaped on top, and a big scoop of crispy fried onions for the finishing touch. It comes with a little dish of a tomato-based liquid that you spoon in and mix to your taste. There’s a large bottle of the stuff on the table and everyone seems to add an extra splash or two. I asked about the second large bottle on the table and was told it was hot sauce. Of course, I can’t resist. Off the fricken’ Scovil scale. I’m guessing it’s liquefied Scotch Bonnet… or perhaps hydrochloric acid.
Next up: Geezers in Giza
That’s right, this year we travel to the land of pyramids and camels. Egypt has been on our list of “must see” countries for quite awhile, but right now seems like a politically advantageous time to visit.
Oh yeah – Comic-Con! Who’s the captain now?
The 
