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Yesterday we were in Cairo and, apart from a couple of times we were underground, we took eight taxis. The first on the forehead. We had booked a hotel room in good, nice and cheap, so they had free shuttle from the airport. After half an hour of waiting, or the free and the shuttle had appeared anywhere, so we decided to look for life. Curiously, the option cheapest was a limousine, so without thinking twice, we had the luxury. Fiat Punto. Red, to be exact. It looked like a limousine as well as our bike to a Haarley. In other words, nothing. While watching the taxis that run through there, it is not surprising that a three-door utility be called "luxury transport."
At least we got to the hotel safely who apologized with great care, until they put the bill for the limousine in front of their noses. Then, the characteristic Egyptian sympathy disappeared instantly. However, everything went through box as the son of Ramses. From there we went to the train station to book tickets sleeper we had to carry Luxor and the Valley of the Kings. My artist skills are worse than a singer so captured our second taxi driver where we wanted to go until the sketch of a steam engine, I put a freaky imitation of "chuku-chuku." Allah is great because in between there are lots of stations in Cairo, let's just where we wanted.
Our third taxi was less traveled. Just enough to leave you smoke hood in the middle of a highway road to the Pyramids. As if we were on a bus, got off the car broke and we got to the next, where we meet two characters well curious. A Chilean military officer leading the UN in Sudan, and a university professor in California, the son of Indian and Canadian passport, East policy expert and speaks Arabic better than Mohamed. In other words, a CIA agent in the making. With such a deluded driver passengers came to give us the prayer card scam and bring to a tour operator rather than the official entry ticket. Yet to pitarle ears. Sunset
spectacular at the Pyramids and back to Cairo with our new friends to share the cost of the taxi. After negotiating a good price, we boarded a private car which not only left us in the wrong direction but which by the way he stopped to take his tea quietly. Stress is a word does not exist in Arabic.
After resting a while in the hotel, we went to dinner. Any of the boats moored on the Nile and converted into malls Food seemed like a good option. We ended up in the Blue Nile Boat, surrounded by local Western dressed, eating American hamburgers and drink Coca-Cola. Frothy cold beer and we had to paint us as the spirit here is more persecuted than Bin Laden. But that was after the penultimate jump of our drivers are the correct jumper and get into one of the usual traffic jams in Cairo where we lost a whole hour.
Pay the bill, we got to the last day of transport. The minute and without a word, our new driver stopped the car, took out his toolbox and began to change the clutch cable through one of the main streets of Cairo. As if this happened every day. And indeed, if not every day, it will become two because skill was the Moor. It seems incredible that the descendants of culture was larger than ever, builders of the pyramids not only but also from temples, palaces and tombs that a fool would leave more of a Roman town still being 3000 years older than them, now go second-hand taxi fall to chunks, with meters and windows broken downs because the air conditioning is still a luxury in a land where the last of his queens, Cleopatra bathed in asses' milk.
If now saw their pharaohs, they fall to the ground bands of shame. Where in Europe are still throwing stones in a cave to another, here were a culture so advanced that they were able to mummify their dead so that we can still see them, their faces, their teeth and hair as if they were alive yesterday, when in fact died two millennia before Jesus was born. Let's see where we are now and half the time ...
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